by Thea Dawson
Adam decided it was time he made an appearance. Putting down the dolly handle, he sauntered into the front.
“I’m not going anywhere with someone who calls me an idiot, you idiot!” Merilee was saying.
“Pretty sure you got this, Merilee,” Adam interrupted. “Just wanted to let you know I’m here if you need me.”
“And who the hell are you?” Jack snapped as Adam walked up and stood beside Merilee.
Adam gave him a friendly smile. “I’m one of those vendors she placed an order with. She did a good job, too. I didn’t have to call her insulting names or anything.”
Merilee glanced at Adam and flashed him a grateful smile.
Jack glared at him. “Well, you can just kindly butt out. This is a conversation between me and Merilee.”
“No, it’s not, Jack,” Merilee said. “The conversation is over. The door is right there. Feel free to go through it anytime in the next five seconds. After that, I’m calling the cops and having you arrested for trespassing.”
Adam looked at her and raised his eyebrows, impressed.
“This is ridiculous!” raged Jack.
“Five,” said Merilee calmly.
“This is a waste of ti—”
“Four.”
“This is the last time I’m telling you, Merilee—”
“Three.” Merilee was starting to look dangerous now.
Adam grinned and folded his arms across his chest, enjoying the show.
Jack’s face was almost purple now. He looked from Merilee to Adam and back. “Fine. But just remember, Merilee: you’re nothing without me.”
Merilee paused for a moment as if considering his words, then shook her head. “Two.”
Jack turned on his heel and walked out the door. The bells chimed as it swung slowly shut behind him.
Beside him, Adam could feel Merilee go limp, as if the fight had suddenly gone out of her. “One,” she said.
Adam wanted to pull her into his arms, but he didn’t want to come on too strong. “I hope this doesn’t come across as condescending, but I’m proud of you,” he said quietly.
She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m proud of me, too.” She nodded slowly and sank into one of the chairs. “Adam, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I just… Jack called while you were doing the shelves and he just—he had a way of really messing with my head.”
“I like that you’re using the past tense there,” Adam said, pulling a chair beside her and sitting down himself.
“Yeah, I think I’m over him for good now. But I’m sorry for dragging you through this with me. If you think I’m too crazy for you, I’ll understand, but I’d really love it if we could keep getting to know each other.”
Adam reached out for one of her hands. “I know it’s going to be hard for you to believe, but I’m not actually perfect myself.”
She raised an eyebrow at him and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“So yeah, let’s keep getting to know each other.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, a lingering, smoldering kiss that promised more in the near future.
“Feeling better now?” Adam asked when they broke apart.
Merilee pushed an errant curl out of her face. “I think it may be safe to say… I’ve never been better.”
Adam cocked his head at her and smiled. “Never?”
Her cheeks got pink. “Well, there was this time with this dairy farmer…” She smiled back at him.
Adam nodded. “Well, I’m at your service, ma’am. You know, should you want to make this a truly epic day.”
Epilogue
The Riverfront Café bustled with people. Merilee had decorated with balloons and fresh flowers, put samples of her pastries on each of the tables, and was doing prize drawings every hour. Behind the counter, Adam handed out samples of gelato and scooped orders, congratulating himself for having had the foresight to stock the kitchen with extra cartons of each flavor—they were going to need them. And if there was this much demand now, it would only go up in the summer—which boded well for both of them.
He glanced at Merilee as she rang up another order. She was glowing with excitement, happiness… and—he was happy to see—confidence. It was clear that her customers were taken with her. She not only asked, but remembered the names of everyone who bought something. From time to time, she would turn the cash register over to one of the college students she’d hired, and walk around the café, chatting with people at the tables and thanking them for coming, and leaving smiles in her wake.
Michael, Merilee’s artist friend, had trooped in with a band of fellow art students in tow, and Celia was there, surrounded by children, and sitting demurely across a table from a tall, handsome man.
Adam looked quizzically at them. He knew that Celia was single, but the way the man looked at her suggested to Adam that they might have been something more than friends. Wondering if there was a story there, he smiled and shook his head as he scooped some lemon coconut gelato for a couple of tourists who had wandered in from a tour of the wine country. This town could turn anyone into a gossip.
“Excuse me,” said the older woman as he handed her the gelato, “is that young lady named Merilee?” She nodded at Merilee, who had once again left the cash register to meet her customers.
Adam glanced at her in surprise. “Yes. Do you know her?”
“Oh, I have to go say hello, thank you!”
Curious, Adam waved one of the college students over to keep scooping and followed the woman as she walked over to Merilee.
“Oh, my goodness, Mrs. Stockton! What are you doing here?” Merilee gave the woman a quick hug.
“I could ask you the same thing! We miss you so much at Beans. It’s just not the same without you.” Mrs. Stockton shook her head sadly. “Frankly, I’d be surprised if it stayed in business. The owner…” she pursed her lips disapprovingly, “well, let’s just say he lacks your charm. But this place is just lovely! I’m so happy to see you doing your own thing.”
Merilee turned to Adam. “Mrs. Stockton and her book club came into Beans every week,” she explained. “What brings you down to Silverweed Falls?” she asked the older woman.
“My husband and I are celebrating our 39th wedding anniversary with a little tour of the vineyards.” Mrs. Stockton quickly introduced her husband, Frank, who shook hands with Merilee and Adam. “In fact,” she continued, “I wanted to talk to you about buying that painting of Multnomah Falls.” She pointed out one of Michael’s watercolors. “We were just there, and I think that would be the perfect keepsake.”
Adam watched Merilee’s face light up. “You know, the artist is here right now. Would you like to meet him?”
“That would be lovely!”
Merilee led the delighted Stocktons over to Michael’s table and began making the introductions.
A few minutes later, after hugging both Merilee and Michael, the Stocktons left with the carefully wrapped watercolor under Mr. Stockton’s arm. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Michael’s table erupted into loud cheers, his friends all patting Michael on the back and congratulating him on his first sale.
Adam came up behind Merilee and wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her cheek. “Are you pleased with how it’s all turned out?”
Merilee nodded. “It looks beautiful. Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“You totally would have done it, with or without me. But I’m not talking about the lighting or the shelves or the menus. I mean, you’re part of the community now. Your customers love this place. They love you. The Riverfront Café is a success. You are a success.”
Merilee twisted around in his arms and tilted her head toward him. “I meant it. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Merilee, Merilee, Merilee,” Adam sang, “life is but—”
“Oh, shut up,” she laughed. She took his face in her hands and brought his l
ips down to hers.
THE END
Sneak Peek
Desire by Design: Book One of the Silverweed Falls Series
“Lily, slow down!”
Celia, who was holding one-year old Rowan in one arm and trying not to lose sight of Rosie, her three-year-old, was trying to keep up as her oldest daughter, ten-year-old Lily, pulled her by the hand through the crowded corridor.
The hallway was packed with families there for the school’s holiday festival. Parents stopped to chat and gossip, making the narrow hall even harder to navigate. Smiling teachers stood at the entrance to each classroom wearing elf hats and tinsel as they invited parents to admire their children’s latest projects. Each classroom had set up an activity or snack, and Lily was anxious to visit as many as possible.
Celia, exhausted from working two shifts at the co-op grocery and facing a late night finishing up an end-of-semester assignment for her design class, would have preferred to visit Lily’s classroom and go home, but Lily was in such high spirits that she didn’t have the heart to insist on leaving early.
They’d visited the library and sat for a reading of The Polar Express, where they were served hot chocolate by students dressed like elves and each child had been given a bell on a ribbon. They’d watched a puppet show version of the Hanukkah story in the art room, and had listened to carols played on a variety of instruments in the music room. Now, finally, it was time to see Lily’s classroom.
In a way, Celia was grateful for Lily’s insistent pulling as it kept her from having to make small talk with the other parents. Silverweed Academy catered to town’s wealthier families, and although she didn’t like to admit it, Celia was intimidated by the other parents there and always felt slightly as if she were trespassing.
“Hello, Lily, thank you so much for bringing your family here! Do you want to show them the project you’ve been working on?”
Lily beamed up at her teacher, Ms. Pennyworth, and for a moment Celia forgot about being tired, stressed or intimidated. That happy smile was the reason they were here. A year and a half ago, Lily had been miserable at school, getting in fights, getting terrible grades. Once she’d switched to the Academy, with its smaller classes and emphasis on personalized learning plans, she’d begun to thrive.
And despite the upheavals of the last year, she was still thriving, at least academically. At home, she was … well, a handful and a half, as Celia’s mother liked to say. But at least here, at the Academy, things were going well.
“My sister really wants to see Sweden,” Lily told Ms. Pennyworth. Celia knew that Sweden was one of the “Christmas around the World” exhibits that Lily’s class and been working on. Lily had been particularly drawn to the fact that the oldest daughters in Swedish families traditionally wore crowns made of candles on Christmas. Ms. Pennyworth laughed and ushered them into the classroom. “There are some cookies, too—don’t forget to grab some!”
Lily proudly showed off a large poster board covered with information and pictures about Swedish holiday traditions. Celia smiled and asked questions while Rosie, who’d heard the word “cookie,” impatiently tugged on Celia’s hand.
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart. You did a great job. Want to get a cookie? I think Rosie’s going to explode if she doesn’t get one soon.”
Lily giggled. “Me too. They’re over there.”
They’d taken only a few steps, though, when Lily seized another little girl by the hand. “Mom! This is Peyton. We want to have a play date soon.”
Peyton was shorter and slighter than Lily. In contrast to Lily’s barely brushed dark brown hair, Peyton had blond hair that had been arranged in a neat French braid topped with a festive red hairband. She wore a green knit dress, white tights and shiny black shoes.
“It’s nice to meet you, Peyton,” Celia said. “You look very Christmas-y.” But the word that had actually come to her mind was “precise.” Peyton had a very precise look, not a hair out of place. So different from Lily in her deliberately mismatched socks, her pink second-hand sweater, and her sweatpants.
“Thank you, Lily’s mom,” Peyton said politely. “It’s very nice to meet you, too.”
Her words, too, were precise, spoken almost as if Peyton had rehearsed them. The little girl had an odd charm to her, Celia thought, though she would not have expected her to be attracted to the boisterous Lily. “Are your parents here?” she asked. “I could ask them about a play date.”
Peyton looked around. “There’s my dad.” She gestured to a tall man with dark hair and a serious expression who was talking to a small group of other fathers at the far end of the room. Celia raised her eyebrows slightly. Peyton’s dad was very good looking.
Peyton caught his eye and beckoned him with a gesture. Still not smiling, he held up a hand in a “wait” gesture and continued to talking to the other men.
Rosie tugged more insistently. “We’re going to grab a cookie.” Celia told Peyton. “Why don’t you introduce your dad when he’s done talking?”
Peyton gave a quick look over her shoulder again. “Oh wait! Here he comes!”
The tall man strode across the room, a slight frown on his face. “What is it, Peyton?”
“Daddy, this is Lily’s mom.”
Celia shift Rowan back to one arm and reached out with her free hand, giving him her biggest smile. “Celia Jackson. Nice to meet you.”
His large hand closed around hers as he looked down at her. Celia wasn’t short, but he was several inches taller than she was, probably around six foot three, and perhaps a few years older than her. She placed him at about 40. He wore tailored khaki pants and a cashmere sweater and was handsome in the mold of a classic Hollywood movie star, with a chiseled jaw, prominent cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and wavy dark brown hair that was just a little too long over the collar of his shirt.
He frowned as if trying to remember something. “Richard Hawkes,” he said a bit absently. “Celia Jackson … Your name sounds familiar.”
She resisted the urge to point out the obvious—that their kids had been in the same class since September and he could have come across her name in the school directory. “Um, well …”
“Oh, your daughter’s one of our scholarship students, isn’t she? I’m on the board. I remember your name coming up.”
Well, this was awkward. “Yes, thank you. The scholarship’s been a huge help.”
“Your husband died suddenly about a year ago, didn’t he? Very sorry about that.” His tone was perfunctory, and she imagined that he was studying her to see what a scholarship family actually looked like.
Yes, well, now that we’ve established that I’m an impoverished widow, how about we arrange a play date? she thought.
“Thank you,” was what she said, sounding a bit perfunctory herself. “Lily and Peyton were just asking about a play date—“
He cut her off. “That sounds nice. Unfortunately, we’ll be away over the holidays. Perhaps I can call you next semester. Now, would you excuse me? I need to talk to some people.”
“Of course.” Celia watched his retreating back in shock. Wow, what a waste of good looks. She shook her head. No one at the school had been outright rude to her before, certainly not in connection with their scholarship status, and she felt first stunned, then angry. She looked down into Peyton and Lily’s confused faces. “Well, hopefully we can have a play date with you soon,” she said as cheerfully as she could to Peyton. “Where are you going over the holidays?”
Peyton shrugged slightly. “To Chicago to see my grandparents,” she said.
“Well, that sounds like fun.”
“I guess,” said Peyton.
“C’mon, let’s get a cookie!” Lily suggested. She and Peyton turned to the cookie-laden table but Richard called out from across the room.
“Peyton! No more cookies. Why don’t you say goodbye to your friend? We need to leave in just a moment anyway.”
A mutinous look crosse
d Peyton’s pretty face but she got control of it. “It was nice to meet you, Lily’s mom,” she said politely. “Bye, Lily.”
“Bye.” The disappointment in Lily’s voice made Celia even more annoyed. What a jerk.
Celia watched Peyton turn away then, not wanting to make eye contact with Richard again, she turned assertively back to the table. “C’mon, guys, let’s get your cookies.”
***
Richard Hawkes sat in his office in Carlton University’s department of engineering. Outside his office window, snow was starting to fall. Inside, a stack of term papers sat on his desk waiting to be graded. He had only a couple of days before he needed to turn grades in and he kicked himself for not hiring a teaching assistant this semester. Unlike most of his colleagues, he never hired a TA. He enjoyed teaching—and, he was well aware, he was a bit of a control freak and didn’t delegate responsibility easily—but at the end of the semester, he inevitably regretted not having someone on hand to help him.
His thoughts kept sliding away from the essays on back to the woman he’d met at the Academy’s holiday festival the night before. She had the most astonishing eyes, a dark, almost navy blue that made a startling contrast with her fair skin and blond hair. He couldn’t seem to shake the image of those eyes.
Nor could he shake the image of the shadow that had fallen over them when he’d been so rude to her. Even more than not hiring a TA, he regretted that he’d insulted her.
Step one in alienating the mother of your only child’s best friend: remind the grieving widow of her loss and, for good measure, her dependence on the school’s charity.
Step two: Beat a hasty retreat out of sheer awkwardness, leaving the actual issue of a play date up in the air.
He hadn’t meant to be rude, but people skills were not his strong suit. As a professor of civil and environmental engineering, he was known as being a tough but fair teacher, a charismatic speaker, and highly knowledgeable about his field. When it came to socializing, however, his ability to make precise assessments and state them bluntly was more of a liability than an asset. When he’d heard Celia’s name, his analytical mind had gone to straight to the one and only thing he knew about her—that she’d applied for a scholarship because her husband had been killed a year ago in some kind of accident—and he’d tactlessly brought it up, only to see her pretty face fall.