Love Arrives in Pieces

by Betsy St. Amant

  “The other night. When it finally came together, I just knew . . . well. I just knew. You’ll see.”

  “Then let me see, already.”

  But she held it out of reach again, teasing, and he pinned one arm against her side in order to grab for the phone once again. She cackled, laughing. Nervous? Still, she trusted him with her secret. Just as she trusted him with her designs for the Cameo. As she’d trusted him with her heart.

  Her kisses.

  He inhaled slowly, turning off that train of thought. He wanted to support her. As a friend. He could do this.

  She held up the phone. “Remember, no one knows about this.” She waited for his nod before gradually turning it around. “Ta-da.”

  An umbrella. An upside-down umbrella.

  Their conversation that night in the rain rushed back to him, and his smile turned to laughter. “Tiara. I am so proud of you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she surrendered the phone as he held it up closer, examining every detail. “Is it glued? Or just chilling on the canvas?”

  “It’s done. I framed it last night, though that part isn’t in the picture.”

  He scrolled his fingers across the screen to widen the shot. “I remember that piece.”

  “The handle?”

  He nodded. “The one Dixie gave you.”

  “She spoke of umbrellas to me twice before you did.” Stella shook her head. “I should have been listening sooner.”

  “Nah. I think the timing was just as it should be.”

  She caught his gaze, held it. “I hope so.”

  They stared at each other, then he pulled her into a one-armed hug. A “friend” hug. Or so he rationalized. The truth was, he couldn’t stand not touching her, and this was the only way he could justify it.

  After a moment they pulled apart and started gathering their cleaning supplies. He’d sent Lyle and Tim home hours earlier, after they’d cracked one joke too many about maid services. Howard had also left a little while ago, to get the rest of what he was bringing to the shelter for the sale that night.

  “I’m coming this evening, by the way. I couldn’t remember if I had mentioned it.” Chase picked up his toolbox, double-checking to make sure he’d snapped the top lids containing all the screws and nails.

  “You are?” Stella tucked the duster she’d been using into a tote bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Interested in buying some pageant dresses?”

  “Very funny.” He wasn’t quite that desperate yet for a tangible memento of Stella, but at this rate, the day might be coming. “I promised Howard I’d come check out that rocking horse of his.”

  Stella nodded her approval. Not that he’d been seeking it. Just a pleasant bonus. “Did you ever give him that stain?”

  “Yep. He said it made all the difference.”

  “I bet someone pays good money for it. It’s unique.”

  Like Howard. Like Dixie.

  They were growing on him. All of them were. He’d miss them if he left Bayou Bend.

  If he ever decided, that is. He kept delaying making that decision. Partially because of dashing his mom’s hopes, and mostly because he wasn’t sure if he had what it took to walk out of Stella Varland’s life for a second time.

  He shook off the heaviness. Those were decisions for later. Right now, they should just be basking in the relief of a project completed.

  Chase checked to make sure he had his keys as they headed out of the lobby. He paused to lock the doors behind him. “Moment of truth. Forget anything? Last chance before the grand opening tomorrow.”

  Actually, it wasn’t. They could run up there during the day if they needed to. They’d have to get there early to prepare, anyway, make sure the movie screen worked. The Downtown Development Committee was supposed to be choosing a classic film to show on the scroll-down screen during the program. They’d also be serving free popcorn and giving away sodas. Stella had insisted on Scotch-guarding all the newly upholstered theater seats after she’d heard about the free drinks.

  “No, I think that’s all. I believe this old place is ready to breathe again.” Stella adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “I can’t think of anything that could make it better.”

  Neither could he. He locked the doors, then stopped short. Looked at Stella’s retreating back as she headed to her car. And got a genius idea.

  Actually, he could think of one thing.

  The shelter fund-raiser was in full swing, residents laughing, patrons shopping, and jukebox blaring when Stella arrived a few minutes after six o’clock. She quickly found Kat near the front kitchen, serving cupcakes, and grabbed one from the cooling rack on the stove. “Need any help back here?”

  Her sister deposited another tray of strawberry cakes onto the serving platter on the counter, and four pairs of waiting hands immediately snatched them up. “Nope. Looks like we have a winner.” She laughed, reaching back to adjust the ties on her apron.

  Stella turned her sister around and retied the bow for her. “Nothing new there. Everyone loves your cupcakes.”

  “I’m offering these basic ones as refreshments for the party. My fairytale collections over there are part of the sale.” Kat pointed to a rectangular display she must have brought with her, since it wasn’t typically there. Inside sparkled all of her princess cakes, glittery and tempting beneath the glass.

  “Good idea. Those will definitely sell like . . .” Stella’s voice trailed off.

  “Hotcakes?” Kat grinned. “Yeah. I was waiting for that pun. Saw it coming a mile away.”

  “I couldn’t resist.” She craned her head to see toward the back of the shelter, where the tables were lined up with all the products to sell. “Have any of my dresses sold yet?”

  Kat shrugged. “I’ve been up here the whole time. Go check it out and see. I know Howard’s rocking horse has been fought over at least twice. They had a bidding war going a minute ago.”

  That was great news—and so encouraging for Howard. Stella slipped back around the counter, excused herself through the throng of people in line waiting for cupcakes, and headed toward the back.

  And nearly collided with Chase as he whisked in the front door.

  She pulled up short and laughed, her hand landing on Chase’s arm just as her eyes locked with Kat’s. Her sister’s eyes narrowed and Stella guiltily removed her hand.

  Then remembered, Chase was her friend. Her friend.

  But that didn’t mean she had to flaunt it in front of her sister. “Let’s go check out Howard’s bidding war.”

  “Sweet. I just might participate.” Chase grinned, straining to see over the crowd as they made their way toward the back.

  A wave of admiration over Chase’s support of her homeless friends nearly knocked Stella off balance. A few weeks ago, he’d thought they were strange, weird . . . creepy. Now, he was truly invested in their well–being, in their lives, their work.

  Well, he still thought they were a little creepy, but in a different way than originally intended.

  She’d take it.

  Stella held on to his arm, loosely, so as not to get lost in the crowd—or so she told herself, anyway. Grateful for the packed room and the excuse to hold on to Chase, she maneuvered with him through the people until they could see the action up front.

  “Forty-five dollars! Do I hear fifty?” To Stella’s surprise, subdued, suit-clad Nancy Martin had taken the role of auctioneer upon herself, working the crowd like a pro.

  She pointed to someone in the crowd who raised a hand. “Fifty dollars! Who will pay fifty-five for this beautiful hard-carved horse?”

  Howard stood to one side of the man beside the rocking horse, his head turning back and forth between the bidding crowd and Nancy as if he were watching a Ping-Pong tournament.

  “Fifty-five dollars!” Nancy pointed to someone else, fist pumping in excitement. “All right! From the woman in that lovely blue dress.” She was working it now, clearly having missed her calling in life. “Who else wants
to bid on this wonderful piece? Do I hear sixty? Sixty bucks?”

  “I bid one hundred dollars.” A confident voice rang through the crowd. The group parted as a short woman with dark hair made her way toward Howard and the rocking horse.

  “Dixie?” Stella gasped.

  Beside her, Chase lowered to whisper into her ear. “I have to admit, I didn’t see that one coming.”

  How in the world? She watched as Dixie held up a hundred-dollar bill, smiled at Howard, and reached down to pat the horse’s glued-on yarn mane. She turned as if waiting for the crowd to argue or outbid.

  No one did.

  “Any more bids?” Nancy urged. “Going once, going twice—sold, for one hundred dollars.”

  Suddenly, all the rumors about Dixie being homeless on purpose rose to the surface. There was a story there, and Stella wondered if she’d ever get it in its entirety. If Dixie even fully knew the story herself.

  Or maybe Dixie knew a whole lot more than Stella—or anyone else, for that matter—realized.

  “Stella, I’m glad you’re here.” Nancy, abandoning her role as auctioneer, grasped Stella’s arm in her manicured hand. “Can you work one of the sales tables for a bit? We’re swamped—which is a good problem. But one of my volunteers went home sick and there’s no one taking offers at the kitchenware table.”

  “Sure.”

  She looked at Chase, who nodded for her to go on. “I’m going to go chat with Howard.”

  Stella followed Nancy to the workstation she’d indicated, and began taking bids and working the makeshift register. Most of the shoppers knew the sale was a fund-raiser for a good cause, and they were content to pay the asking price on the labels Kat had carefully prepared. Others were still determined to get a deal, but Stella fought them back up to near sticker price most of the time.

  After a half hour had flown by, Stella looked up. The crowd had thinned slightly but still mingled around the product tables. She hadn’t seen Chase in all that time. Hopefully he and Howard had had a good conversation.

  But he wasn’t her priority. Chase could entertain—and take care of—himself.

  It had just been nice to be able to pretend they were together. Aware of where the other was at all times.

  Again, it was the little things about being part of a couple that tripped her up the most.

  Kat suddenly appeared in front of her table. “Time to go.”

  “What do you mean? Is my shift over?” Stella checked for her watch, then remembered she wasn’t wearing one. She grabbed for her phone instead. “Nancy didn’t specify how long I needed to stay.”

  “No, it’s time to go. Now.” Kat’s eyes widened and she pressed a hand against her bulging stomach. “To the hospital.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Stella shoved into action. Where were her keys? She felt in her back pocket. Nothing. She’d left her purse locked in the car so she wouldn’t have to keep up with it all—and she bet her keys were still in her purse. Front left pocket. She groaned.

  “Where are your keys?” She ushered Kat toward the front door, guiding her through the still mingling crowd. “I’ll text Nancy and tell her what happened. She can help guard and sell your cupcakes.”

  “I don’t have my keys. Lucas dropped me off on his way to Tyler’s. They were having dinner with Tyler’s parents. You remember him, right? The kid on his team a few years ago, with the alcoholic father? He’s like a nephew to Lucas.” Kat sucked in a long breath and squeezed her eyes shut as a contraction rendered her momentarily speechless. “His dad is sort of coming around, and has gotten interested in church.”

  “Right. Um . . . that’s great news, Kat. You can tell me this later, though.” Stella reached toward her sister, unsure if she should touch her for support or steer clear. “You know. When you’re not having a baby.”

  “Good idea.” Kat gripped the handle of the front door, then let out a quick sigh once the contraction fully passed. “We’ll have to take your car.”

  Uh-oh. “There’s just one problem with that . . .” Stella patted her empty pockets and held up both hands. “I locked my keys in my car. And just realized it.”

  “Stella!” Kat’s lecture was interrupted by another contraction. “I swear if I have this baby in a homeless shelter, Stella Varland, I’ll—”

  “I’ll just text Lucas.” Stella fumbled for her phone, almost dropping it in her panic.

  “Ladies, let’s go. I’ve already told Nancy what’s happening.” Chase appeared, smooth as molasses, and ushered both of them outside. “I’m parked to the right.” He offered Kat his arm and she didn’t even argue, just leaned heavily against him as another contraction racked her body.

  He opened the back door of the truck and helped Kat inside. “Sit in the back with her.”

  His calm, authoritative approach calmed them both. Stella slid obediently into the back of the truck, grabbing Kat’s hand. She squeezed hard until the contraction passed.

  Chase cranked the engine. “Won’t be long. I promise.”

  “Call Lucas.” Kat squeezed out the words. Then shot her sister a look. “Don’t you dare tell him where I am.”

  “He won’t care. You’re having a baby, Kat!” Stella called Lucas, left a voicemail, and then sent an emergency text. “He’ll answer in a minute. You know he will.”

  “I don’t know. Tyler’s parents can get pretty intense.” True. Lucas had always been a father figure to Tyler—Stella even remembered that much. He’d always felt extra responsibility to the boy, even keeping up with him after he graduated. So Kat was right. It might be a minute.

  Stella looked back at the phone and began dialing. “I’ll call Mom.”

  Her sister winced, and Stella wasn’t sure if it was because of another contraction or if it was the thought of having to deal with their mom while under duress.

  “You okay back there?” Chase made eye contact briefly with Stella in the rearview mirror before glancing at Kat.

  “Doing great.” Kat nodded, breathing sharply through her nose and mouth. “But feel free to speed.”

  “Already on it.” Chase looked back at the road. They were at the hospital within minutes. He pulled up to the Emergency Room, hazards lights still flashing, and helped Kat out of the truck. Then he reached up to assist Stella.

  This time, she accepted his help. “Thank you.” She lingered in his grip a moment longer than necessary. Then she rushed after her waddling sister.

  He’d just driven his ex-girlfriend to the hospital. To have a baby.

  While his wannabe girlfriend—her sister—rode along.

  How did Stella keep getting him into these soap-opera-worthy situations?

  Chase ran his fingers over his hair, shifting in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. The metal armrest dug into his side. He shifted his weight again. Nope. Not any better. How could anyone stand these things?

  They had been back there at least half an hour. He was surprised Stella hadn’t come out with an update. He wasn’t entirely familiar with the process of having babies, but he knew enough to know Kat hadn’t been about to give birth in his truck. There was still time to go—so where was Stella?

  And why hadn’t she texted him the status yet? Were they getting Kat checked in and settled? She’d have to change. And there was probably an IV to run, on top of many other things.

  Still . . .

  He finally stood up and began pacing the empty room, poking his head around the corner to check down the long hall toward the front desk occasionally for any sign of Lucas. Last he’d heard, the guy still hadn’t responded to the texts or calls both girls had sent. He better hurry it up—Chase was familiar with Kat’s temper, and wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it in a circumstance like this.

  A familiar blonde form strode toward the desk, high heels clacking against the tile floor and a giant purse flapping against her hip. A woman on a mission.

  Claire Varland.

  Chase swallowed. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide . . .

&
nbsp; The nurse behind the desk directed her toward him with a quick gesture. Claire looked up, and her eagle-sharp gaze landed directly on him.

  Her eyebrows shot straight up to her coiffed hairline. “Chase?”

  “Evening, Mrs. Varland.” He wouldn’t call her Claire. Not to her face, anyway. It was hard enough to even think of her that way. The lady demanded respect and propriety.

  Not to mention stark-white fear.

  He had been younger then, of course. But some things didn’t change.

  She approached him, studying him like a specimen under a microscope, and he tried not to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

  He fought for something neutral to say. “Congratulations on becoming a grandmother.”

  “Almost.” She lifted her chin. “I’m assuming I’m not too late?” She looked down the hall of the maternity ward.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good.” She settled into one of the stiff chairs, crossing her legs. “Where’s Lucas?”

  “Not here yet.”

  “Well, why are you here?”

  He continued to pace, watching for Lucas. “I drove the girls.”

  Her eyebrows lifted again, this time without the anvil of judgment weighing them down. “I see.” The surprise, though, was evident. Very evident.

  He wanted to explain, but didn’t want to throw Stella under the irresponsibility bus by blaming the car key situation on her. “We were all at the homeless shelter’s fund-raiser, and—it’s a long story.”

  “Apparently.” She tilted her head back, her blonde hair never moving from its perfect position on her head. “You have a lot of those, don’t you?”

  Okay. That was it. He was done with the snide comments, the snarky, underhanded sly remarks. It was getting ridiculous. “Mrs. Varland, I realize I hurt your daughters. Both of them. And I’m not a parent, but I can only imagine how that must feel. To see your kids heartbroken.” He took the chair next to her, ignored her shock at his directness, and leaned in close. “But I beg you to let this water under the bridge stay under the bridge already.”

  “Don’t be silly, Chase.” She laughed, a nervous edge to her voice, and he almost fell out of his chair. He, making Claire Varland nervous?