In the parking lot, out of earshot, she stopped.
“It’s not too late,” she said. “You could go back and have a quick meal with everyone.”
“Thank you, but I need to say no.”
“Look, it’s none of my business, but I’ve gotten to know the people here, so I can say for sure it would be a great start for you to eat with them.”
“Maybe if I was their new activities director, but I’m the city manager.”
“This is a small town, so everyone interacts. Nothing would get you launched better than sitting around the table with Willow’s Eve’s longest residents. Heck, Caroline White is the mayor’s mother—you passed her on our way out—and Marcia Carter was Fannie Snow’s cousin, once or twice removed, but still...Fannie was important. She left all her money to the town, and her trust fund provides a big chunk of your salary.”
He sighed. “You’re probably right, but I drove all night and would like to see my house and unpack my car.”
Guilt hit Mandy. After all, while she loved to travel and wander, not everyone did. Besides, driving all night wasn’t “traveling.” It was merely transportation. “I understand. Just follow me.”
“Thank you.”
She got into her Volkswagen and led his Jeep out of the parking lot, keeping track of the trendy SUV in her rearview mirror. She took several turns and twists as she drove to the edge of town. Finally, she swung into a circular driveway and stopped in front of the huge Victorian with the big yard. Several leafy trees provided a pleasant shade—not that it ever got that hot on the Northern California coast, and now that it was September, the weather was already showing hints of fall.
Daniel climbed from his SUV and studied his new home with a peculiar expression.
“This is it,” Mandy said, getting out of her car. “Isn’t it great? Just perfect for the days when people had huge families filling up all corners of the house, with the kids arguing about who gets the tower bedrooms. The town couldn’t figure out what to do with it until they decided it should be part of the city manager’s employment package.”
“It’s very nice.”
She rolled her eyes. “All you have to say is ‘nice’? This is the best house in town,” she informed him. “Old Man Bertram was the richest person around, after Fannie, that is. So when his grandson said he’d rather eat worms than live in Willow’s Eve, Oscar Bertram willed it to the community.”
“I didn’t mean anything negative,” Daniel said. “It’s magnificent and I’m sure I’ll enjoy living in it.”
Mandy cocked her head and studied him. He hadn’t said anything negative, just sort of neutral, and neutral wasn’t going to cut it in Willow’s Eve. “Sorry, I know you’re tired and maybe I should keep my mouth shut, but everyone is proud of the place and they’ll expect more than, ‘It’s nice.’”
“Yes, of course.”
“You don’t know much about small towns, do you?” she asked.
“I’ve never lived in one, but I’m sure I can adjust.” He smiled slightly.
“I never lived in one, either, until I came here, or at least not one this small,” Mandy admitted. “But I’ve learned a great deal. You can’t have a big-city attitude here. It won’t work.”
Brother, her vocal cords were having a wild-and-free day. For a moment, she felt the same as Bridget Jones in the movie and its sequel, riotously running off at the mouth and getting herself into one mess after another because of it.
Mandy led Daniel up the steps, wishing he’d been a pleasant middle-aged man. It wasn’t fair he’d turned out to be so attractive. Well, his face was attractive and his body mighty sexy. His personality? That might be another story. So far, he gave the impression of being uptight and humorless. But she’d barely met him and he might be a barrel of laughs once he had a decent night’s sleep. That would be nice—she didn’t do well with people who couldn’t laugh.
Luckily, she had a sense of humor to keep her going. Not that “lucky” was the way her professor father would have described it when she’d been eight years old and had shown up at a faculty reception dressed as Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt. It had seemed appropriate—after all, the older profs lapsed into Greek and Latin at the oddest times—and it was a heck of a lot better than the scratchy wool dress she had been told to wear.
Oh, well.
After her father had stopped yelling, she’d been sent to stay in her room all evening. Her mother had actually thought it was a punishment for her to remain in her bedroom instead of being downstairs in the living room with the professors and their stuffy spouses.
“Believe it or not,” Mandy said, dragging her mind back to the present, “there’s an attached garage. Back in the eighties, Mr. Bertram had a sunroom built that connects it. The garage door opener is in the kitchen.”
Daniel opened the front door and motioned for her to go ahead.
“Beautiful,” he declared after a minute staring about the entryway.
She nodded.
His admiration appeared genuine, which it ought to be. The entryway was an architectural masterpiece. Quickly, Mandy walked through the hallway and into the kitchen at the rear of the house.
“It’s been remodeled with all the latest conveniences,” she said. “Old Man Bertram left money to do it, though it’s too bad he didn’t put in the modern kitchen before he died. His housekeeper cooked on a fifty-year-old stove and says she still has nightmares.”
Mandy opened a drawer to reveal two garage door openers and various small gadgets to use around the house.
“There’s food in the freezer. Casseroles started arriving two days ago. We were going to have milk and fresh food in the fridge, only since we got mixed up about your arrival date, I’m afraid it’s still empty.”
“I’m sorry if I upset the plans.”
Mandy shrugged. “It’s not your fault. We just wanted to have it extra nice when you got here.”
“We?” Daniel asked. “How are you involved?”
“I was asked to be on the welcome committee. Anyway, the bed in the upstairs master bedroom is made, so that’s done. It’s on the right at the front of the house as you go up.”
“Thank you,” he said and began walking her to the front door.
“Oh, drat.” She mentally slapped her forehead. “I forgot your office keys. I’ll go get them now.”
“You’ll be at City Hall tomorrow, won’t you?”
“Yeah. Well, barring a blizzard or something,” she qualified.
“Right. Just unlock my office door if you have to step out. I have enough to do here. I can wait until tomorrow for the keys.”
“Sure. Say, you’d better turn up the hot water heater in the garage. It’ll just be lukewarm, otherwise.”
“Thanks.”
He turned and disappeared into the house, much to Mandy’s relief. There was something overpowering about Daniel Whittier, making her glad to escape.
* * *
BLEARY-EYED, DANIEL looked out the window at his Jeep Cherokee. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to park it in the garage and catch a nap. Not only had he gotten no sleep the night before, he’d been short on it for the past month. He was thirty-five now, not eighteen, and it was catching up to him.
Daniel walked through the pleasant sunroom off the kitchen and sure enough, the opposite door opened into a spacious garage. He parked his Jeep in the garage, closed the automatic door and then went up to find the master bedroom Mandy Colson had mentioned. He sank onto the bed, thinking about her. Lord, the woman had made his exhausted brain spin with her verbal detours and runaway mouth.
But she had an engaging smile that probably turned her boyfriends into melted butter and delighted the senior citizens she worked with.
His head hit the pillow. More misgivings about his move to Willow’s Eve
were attacking. He’d envisioned a tidy ranch home, not a Victorian monster—this place was so huge they’d rattle around like dried peas in a pod. Worse, Samantha might find it overwhelming, or even frightening. Somehow he’d have to find a way to make her feel safe and secure, despite all the changes in her life.
Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep. Perhaps everything would seem more promising once he wasn’t so tired.
* * *
FOUR HOURS LATER, Daniel woke with a start, and it took a moment to orient himself.
He’d been grateful when he was offered the job in Willow’s Eve. The timing was perfect and would provide employment while he considered the future. Most of all, it had gotten him cleanly and quickly away from Southern California. Moving was probably best, even if Celia and the mayor hadn’t started dating. Celia was never going to develop maternal feelings, and his daughter would find it increasingly painful as she recognized that her mommy was more interested in Prada shoes than her own child—if she didn’t realize it already. It would be better for Samantha not to be constantly reminded of that hurtful truth. It was hard to feel unwanted, and even worse at only five years old.
He unpacked the Jeep and stacked everything in the kitchen before exploring the various rooms. The Victorian contained a significant amount of furniture, though some of the pieces were so old-fashioned they were practically antiques. Hell, most of them were antiques. It was handy that the house came furnished since his ex-wife had taken almost everything when she left. Daniel hadn’t cared as long as she didn’t use Samantha as a bargaining chip.
The Victorian had both a formal living room and a flowery parlor connected by French doors; Daniel stood between them, trying to picture his recently purchased dark gray-green leather couches in place of the elegant settees and needlepoint-upholstered chairs. The modern couches wouldn’t match the historic architecture, but they’d be far more comfortable. He and Joyce could discuss it before making a final decision.
Joyce.
Daniel chuckled to himself, wondering what the locals would think about his former mother-in-law living with him. It was unusual, but it was best for Samantha. The two of them were currently living in his town house. Joyce was a terrific lady, and having her in Willow’s Eve meant that Samantha wouldn’t need to go into child care. They were following him in a couple of weeks, depending upon how quickly he got things settled. Grabbing his smartphone, he dialed Joyce’s cell number. He’d called earlier to report his safe arrival in Willow’s Eve, but there had been little else to recount. Now he could tell Joyce and Samantha about the house.
“Hello, Daniel,” Joyce answered. He heard the smile in her voice. “Have you seen the house?”
“Yes. It’s a very large Victorian, in excellent shape. I’ve gotten some sleep and I’m putting everything away.”
“Is any furniture needed?”
“Not exactly.” He glanced around the room. “The existing stuff is old, though in good condition. But most of it doesn’t look comfortable.”
“Can some be removed?”
“The city council offered to store whatever isn’t needed.” He thought of Mandy. “The welcome committee made up a bed and put in basics like towels and hand soap. Not to mention stocking the freezer with home-cooked casseroles and other food.”
“Goodness. I didn’t think people still did that.”
“Me, either. It must be a small-town custom.”
“But it makes it easier for you right now. When the movers eventually deliver all our stuff, just leave the boxes until we get there. That way, you can focus on getting settled at work.”
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll think about it, but I’d also like to have the house look more familiar for Samantha, with her own things around. Naturally, I’ll let you decide about your own boxes.”
All of Joyce’s belongings had been marked with her name, and he wanted to respect her privacy. After the movers picked up everything from his town house, Joyce and Samantha would stay at her apartment, since it was furnished.
“I’m not worried about that. But...uh...” Her voice dropped. “I just found out that Celia and Dirk Bowlin are getting married in a few weeks.”
He rubbed his jaw, not surprised. The six-month anniversary of his and Celia’s divorce had passed, and some people saw that as the minimum benchmark for getting remarried. Since Bowlin was a politician, conscious of his image, he’d follow any conventions he thought might influence voters.
“Don’t worry about it, Joyce.”
“It’s going to be a small affair, but they’ve asked Samantha to be the flower girl.”
Daniel didn’t ask if it would be a white wedding, though he was quite certain there’d be photographers—Celia loved pictures of herself, and the mayor would want potential publicity shots. Then he suddenly realized one of the reasons Joyce was concerned.
“Flower girl? Does that mean you’ll need to stay until after the wedding?”
“Celia is having a dress made and wants studio photographs done, that sort of thing, so I think staying is best. But it wouldn’t be much longer than we originally planned.”
“I see.” Yet Daniel’s gut tightened. While it was highly unlikely his ex-wife would try to reopen the custody issue, he couldn’t suppress moments of suspicion about her motives.
In the background, he heard his daughter’s voice pleading, “Can I talk to Daddy, please?”
“Sure, honey,” Joyce said.
“Hi, Daddy,” his daughter’s timid voice greeted him. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, pumpkin. But it won’t be long before you and Grandma are here. Did you have a nice day?”
“Uh-huh. I made you a present.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“Mommy says it’s not very good.”
Daniel was tempted to tell her Mommy wasn’t worth listening to, but he was determined not to head down that road. Kids shouldn’t be the battleground for their parents; his mother and father had waged World War III throughout his childhood. They were the reason he’d considered never getting married in the first place. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk of going through that kind of pain. Now...? Well, he wouldn’t give up Samantha for anything, but there was little doubt that his own marriage had turned out badly.
“I’m sure your present is wonderful, darling,” he said gently. “And I’m glad you had a visit with your mommy.”
Samantha’s voice had a forlorn sound to it. “She came to look for a purse she forgot.”
Hell. What could he say? There weren’t any words to fix his child’s pain. He just hoped time and distance would help. “It’s still nice you got to see her.”
“I guess so.”
“You know what? I’d better go,” he said. “I’ve got to explore our new house some more and guess which bedroom you’ll want.”
“It can be a game,” Samantha answered, sounding brighter.
“You bet, and whoever wins, we’ll get a pizza to celebrate, with no little fishies on it.”
A giggle floated over the wires as he invoked an image from E.T., one of Samantha’s favorite movies.
“Can you tell your grandma ‘goodbye’ for me?” he asked.
“Sure. ’Bye, Daddy.”
“Good night.”
He hit the off button and glanced around the cavernous living room. The Victorian was going to dwarf the odd little family that they’d decided to form, and he hoped Samantha wouldn’t find it alarming after their cozy town house. Well, he didn’t have to stay for more than a year. He’d signed a twelve-month contract and promised to consider staying beyond that, but he’d been up-front about saying it was unlikely. He’d been the deputy city manager for a town of several hundred thousand and in line to get the top job the next year when the current manager retired, so Willow
’s Eve was hardly a step forward. Or, maybe it was in some ways. Here he wouldn’t be anyone’s deputy, and that would look good on his résumé.
Daniel put everything away except for the box he would take to City Hall in the morning. He was just finishing when the doorbell rang.
Mandy Colson stood at the door with an elderly woman and a middle-aged man. The man was holding a large box.
“Hi, Daniel,” Mandy said. She gestured to the two people with her. “This is Jane Cutman and Clark Green. They’re part of the welcome committee.”
“Oh, thank you. Won’t you come in?” Daniel asked awkwardly, wishing they had waited before doing any welcomes. At the moment he was still groggy and his stomach was grumbling.
“Nope,” Mandy answered. “We just brought the groceries we planned to put in the fridge for you.”
With a cordial nod, Clark Green handed the box to Daniel.
“That’s very thoughtful,” Daniel said, unsure of the proper protocol in such a situation. He’d worked in places where they had a cake or given a plant to welcome a new employee, but that had been at the office, never something like this.
“We’ll go now,” Jane told him. “Mandy, dear, I’ll see you tomorrow at the center.”
“Sure thing.”
The other two left, but Mandy lingered. “I wanted to tell you that if you need anything, I’m next door.” She pointed at a sparse row of bushes on the left. “And Jane is on the other side of me in the yellow house, so now you’ve met two of your neighbors.”
Mandy lived next door? Daniel’s stomach did a peculiar, rolling swoop that had nothing to do with hunger.
“Uh, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned and ran down the steps, and even in the long evening light, he couldn’t avoid noticing the sexy grace of her movements.
Daniel quickly clamped a lid on his response—there was no way he’d get involved with an employee. And right now his divorce was too fresh and painful to jump right back into the hazards of another relationship, especially with a woman whose nature seemed utterly foreign to his own more sedate personality.
Until She Met Daniel Page 3