by Karen Kirst
A sigh escaped his downturned lips.
He turned to his new assistant, Donald. “I’ll be in the office.”
The hardworking twenty-year-old looked up from rearranging the jewelry case. “Okay, boss.”
Stalking into the office, he slumped into the chair and extracted the letter from his jacket pocket. The paper was thinning at the creases, a result of his constant handling.
He’d been floored when Caleb had returned without her. Deeply hurt, too. Did he mean so little to her, then? Oh, he knew they’d said their private goodbyes in her barn. And a not-so-private one here on Main Street.
Had she known beforehand? Was that why she’d surprised him with that fierce, almost desperate hug?
As the days had crawled past, he’d come to accept that her decision had saved him. Watching her leave for what he’d thought was a temporary trip had ripped his heart out. He wasn’t so sure he’d have been able to retain his dignity if he’d had to do it all over again, knowing it was permanent.
He sniffed the paper. Already her sweetly feminine scent was fading.
At least she’d taken the time to send this letter along with her cousin, explaining her need to seize the opportunities presented.
“Mr. Darling?” Donald hovered in the doorway. “Mr. O’Malley is here to see you.”
Hastily returning the letter to his breast pocket, he strode into the front area. Caleb was leaning against the counter.
“Is everything okay with Nicole?” Quinn pushed out. “Has she written to you?”
“Got a letter yesterday, as a matter of fact. She’s fine. Business is picking up to the point she’s contemplating hiring someone.”
His unease evaporated, leaving behind a hollow sensation. “That’s good news.”
Apparently he didn’t sound convincing, because Caleb arched a mocking brow.
“I want her venture to be a success,” Quinn said with more starch. “And I’m glad she’s happy. That’s what counts.”
Caleb grinned.
Okay, time to stop talking.
“The thing is—” Caleb leaned over the counter, lowering his voice “—I’m not so sure she is happy.”
“What do you mean?”
“She sounds lonely.”
Propping an arm along the silver-and-crystal case, Quinn ignored the compassion squeezing his chest. He’d been afraid of this. She doesn’t need me to rescue her. I’m not her protector.
“I’m speaking from experience when I say it will take time to adjust and make new friends. Has she found a church yet?”
“She’s visited a couple but hasn’t decided on one in particular.”
“And her lodgings? Is she content there?”
Caleb shifted to let another customer view the contents of the jewelry case. “The proprietress is a kind Christian widow. She’s a substitute mother figure for Nicole.”
Another customer approached the counter needing help with the fabrics, and Donald was busy packaging vanilla extract. “I have to help my assistant.”
With a nod, Caleb waved a small paper scrap. “And I have to gather supplies for my wife.”
Quinn considered asking the other man to include his regards the next time he wrote Nicole, but decided against it. He didn’t want her thinking he was pining away for her up here in the mountains. Even if that was exactly what he was doing.
* * *
With one final glance in the mirror to inspect her hair, which had blessedly grown out enough to brush her shoulders, Nicole went to the door to flip the open sign. Judging from the still, stagnant air inside her shop, it was going to be a scorcher. Her gaze snagged on a man and woman strolling along the boardwalk. With his jet-black hair and her fair good looks, they made a handsome couple. Behind them trailed two young boys, as neatly dressed as their parents, making faces at each other and giggling.
Regret wrapped its tentacles around her and squeezed every last drop of contentment she’d managed to grasp since her arrival. Not that she’d managed much. No matter how many self-directed speeches she made about focusing on her blessings, the distance from Quinn overshadowed everything.
A cold chill seizing up her insides, she rested her forehead against the glass.
I admit it, Lord Jesus. I was wrong. Prideful and foolish. I thought I had my life all figured out, that I didn’t need Your direction. I got what I wanted, yet I’m miserable.
She missed her sisters and mother. She missed Patrick and Lillian. She missed her cousins—she wouldn’t even mind hearing Caleb calling her Nicki. She missed home.
Oh, her landlady was nice, and she provided tasty meals. There was a charming flower garden behind the house where she could sit and sew in peace.
Business was steady. Already she was having trouble keeping up with the orders for new dresses, in addition to the alteration requests she’d received from both men and women.
Nicole had every reason to be happy. The fact that she couldn’t escape this melancholy made her feel childish and ungrateful.
Missing Quinn was normal. He’d been an understanding boss, a wonderful, supportive friend, her protector and avenger. But after six weeks of not seeing him, shouldn’t this aching hole in her chest have disappeared by now? Shouldn’t the sadness, the desperation to be near him, have already faded?
Forgive me, Lord. I’ll get over this soon, I hope. I really am grateful for Your provision, despite the fact I don’t deserve it.
Frustrated, she retreated behind the counter to where her brand-new sewing machine was set up, along with an assortment of threads and needles and other supplies. She set aside the dress Mrs. Elizabeth Moore had ordered and reached for the pair of men’s trousers that needed hemming. She was in the wrong frame of mind to create something out of nothing. Better to stick with mundane tasks.
Nicole had just finished when the door swished open. Hanging the trousers on the rack beside her machine, she ran her hands along her full skirts and turned to greet the customer.
The words died on her lips.
Quinn, her Quinn, was standing inside the door, hat in his hands and looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him. Glossy hair slicked off his forehead, cheekbones stark and pronounced, his hard jaw clean shaven and his light eyes steady on her.
Advancing on wooden feet, she almost pinched him to check if he was indeed real and not a figment of her imagination. “Quinn Darling, you are the last person I expected to walk through my door today.”
“I did promise to visit you.”
Mouth crooking up at the corner, his warm, soothing voice washed over her in waves of true bliss.
“You are real.” And he was here, in her store, close enough to touch. Somehow, she restrained herself.
The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did you think you were dreaming?”
Clasping her wayward hands behind her back, she laughed softly, unable to hide her joy. “I’m very glad I’m not.”
Oh, the sight of his face was so dear. Precious. Her heart vibrated with unbridled happiness, and she nearly bounced on her toes in giddy excitement.
He nodded, assessing the space, inspecting the shelves on either wall and the two table displays in the middle. Walking past her, Quinn leisurely explored, touching a long finger to this fabric and that blouse. Nicole remained in the same spot, blatantly soaking up his every movement.
Finally, he pivoted and smiled that peculiar, not-quite-happy smile again. “You’ve done well for yourself. Caleb tells me business has been good.”
“Yes. I’ve been blessed.”
Nicole didn’t wish to discuss business. She wanted...what? For him to whisk her into his arms and kiss her senseless? To fall on his knees and confess his undying love for her?
“Yes,” she blurted aloud.
His brow lifted.
She was in love with him.
Marrying Quinn, building a life and raising a family together—that was her true dream.
Another customer chose that moment to enter her shop. Nicole uttered a distracted hello. A muscle in Quinn’s jaw twitched as he dipped his head in acknowledgment of the lady, who made a beeline for the ribbon rack.
Striding over to Nicole, he spoke in lowered tones. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“You’re leaving?” she squeaked, panicked.
He couldn’t leave. He’d just arrived. They’d barely spoken.
“Not yet. I’ve procured a room.” He named the same hotel that she and Caleb had lodged in. His hesitation, indeed his entire reserved manner, was at odds with his usual easygoing attitude. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“I’d like nothing better.” She gave him directions to the boardinghouse.
“I will pick you up at six o’clock.”
Emotions in a jumble, Nicole watched his retreating figure until he turned a corner. Today was going to be the longest day of her life.
* * *
Back in her rented room that evening, Nicole chose her favorite outfit, a lilac dress with tiny bows adorning the short sleeves and delicate black lace overlaying the skirt. With it, she paired black lace gloves and a filmy shawl. She wore her curls loose save for a single, sparkly hair clip on one side. Silver earbobs adorned her ears.
Picking up her reticule from the bedside table, she slipped it over her wrist and offered up a silent prayer for calm. The day had dragged. However, she couldn’t recall a single exchange. Hopefully she hadn’t offended any of her customers with her utter distraction. Or sewed on the wrong color buttons. Or taken too many inches off Mr. Corelli’s trousers.
Her legs didn’t want to support her as she navigated the steep staircase to the lower level. The smell of Mrs. Keene’s pot roast permeated the entry hall. Instead of reacting with hunger, her stomach rebelled.
How was she supposed to make it through the meal with Quinn studying her with his enigmatic, too-knowing regard? What if he guessed her feelings?
They’d both wind up embarrassed, that’s what. He hadn’t asked her to stay in Gatlinburg. Quite the opposite. He’d encouraged her to follow her dream.
He couldn’t know her dream had changed. Quinn had affected the change, barreling into her life and challenging her to take risks, to let others see the real Nicole O’Malley.
At the heavy tread of boots to her right, she whipped her head around. The object of her turmoil appeared in the wide parlor archway, elegant and intimidating in his coal-black suit, his dark gaze doing a slow inspection of her.
He let out a soft whistle. “You are...well, words really wouldn’t do you justice. Consider me speechless.” Closing the distance between them, he lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles, the heat of his mouth burning through the lace.
At her swift intake, he released his hold and gestured to the wood-paneled door. “Shall we go?”
Passing onto the wide veranda, she chatted nervously about Rose’s Café and their mouthwatering beef stew. “Unfortunately they don’t have chicken and dumplings on the menu,” she said when they reached the boardwalk. “I know that’s your favorite.”
Quinn held his arm out to her, and she settled her hand in the crook of his elbow, hard put not to edge closer to his side. The enticing scent of peppermint wafted over.
“I get enough of that at Plum’s.”
Her gaze flashed to his profile. “You’re not staying at my sister’s?”
“I decided to rebuild the store pretty much the same as before. I moved back into the private quarters until my home is complete. The men I hired from Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge will start work next week.”
Although he continued to stare straight ahead, she glimpsed his slight frown.
“Is something wrong?” she ventured. “Have you changed your mind about the property?”
“It’s not that.” Guiding her around an elderly man walking his dog, Quinn exhaled. “I’m simply wondering if my plans for a large home aren’t excessive. After all, what do I need five bedrooms for?”
Nicole bit her lip. Quinn wasn’t acting like himself. He seemed distracted and...sad.
Not about to mention his desire for a wife and children, she said, “You’ll need them for when your family visits. Have they indicated when they might come?”
Curious about his family, she wondered if she might arrange a trip home at the same time. His sister, Tilly, sounded sweet, and she was curious whether his younger brother was anything like him.
“They are waiting for me to send word. I plan to see how construction progresses before I do.”
“I can hear in your voice how much you miss them.”
Quinn angled his head to look at her then, his probing gaze making her feel as if she were missing the key clue to a riddle. “Is that all you’ve deduced in my voice? That I miss my family?”
Mouth working, she stumbled over an uneven board. His free hand shot out to steady her.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, cheeks pinking as a trio of younger girls heading in their direction giggled and gaped at Quinn as if they’d never seen a handsome man before.
Quinn didn’t repeat his question, and Nicole couldn’t help but feel relieved. She despised the strained energy enveloping them, the uncertainty where camaraderie used to exist. Fortunately, the café’s pink awning came into view. Surely the delicious fare and relaxed atmosphere would put them at ease.
The hostess on duty recognized Nicole and, with a friendly greeting, led them to a window table in the corner. Quinn pulled out her chair and waited for her to be seated before taking the one across from her. His lean form dominated her vision.
For the second time that day, she was tempted to pinch him. It was still difficult to believe that Quinn Darling was here, close enough to touch yet off-limits.
Constance inquired if they wanted coffee. Out of habit, Quinn accepted for himself but declined for Nicole.
“Actually, I would love a cup,” she inserted, laying her reticle on the chair beside her.
With a dip of her head, Constance set off for the kitchen.
Quinn’s jaw sagged. “I thought coffee and tea stained your teeth?”
She grinned. “If the amount of hard candy you consume hasn’t affected yours then I feel free to indulge now and again.”
He tapped his chin, trademark grin bursting through. “About that, I think your boutique would benefit from penny candy. I’m speaking as your former employer and the owner of an extremely successful country store.”
“Oh, do you now?”
“Definitely. Not only would jars of penny candy add a splash of color, it would set your shop apart. When a customer is in need of alterations and is deciding where to go, they’ll say, ‘Hey, that Nicole O’Malley, she has penny candy. I should go there. I’ll indulge my love of lemon drops while I wait.’”
“I will keep your advice under consideration, Mr. Darling.”
“You’re gone for a month and a half and already you’re defaulting to formal address?” He shook his head in mock incredulity. “I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Duchess.”
The coffee arrived then, and, concentrating on stirring in milk and sugar, she attempted to gather her scattering wits. This charming, teasing Quinn was the man she’d fallen in love with, the one she desperately wan
ted to keep with her forever.
Nicole made it through the meal by plying him with safe questions, anything to maintain light conversation. There were a few hiccups. Like the moments before their pie arrived and she caught him staring, his honey eyes soft.
“What?”
“Your hair,” he said quietly, elegant fingers skimming the fork and knife handles against the pristine tablecloth. “It’s grown out.”
She touched a finger to the ends self-consciously. “More slowly than I’d like, but I no longer receive odd stares.”
“Are you sure they weren’t stares of envy? In my opinion, you could make most any hairstyle look stylish. I can’t say the same for every female of my acquaintance.”
“You are very good for my self-esteem.”
The memories of Kenneth’s prank crowded in, and she was in that field again, Quinn comforting her, making her feel safe and beautiful despite everything. He was the only person she could envision beside her for the remainder of her days, facing life’s trials and sharing in life’s blessings together.
Could she...should she confess her feelings?
And put Quinn in an awkward position? If he’d returned my feelings, he never would’ve let me go. No, it was better to keep her secret to herself. That way their future interactions wouldn’t be marked with humiliation.
Heart in turmoil, Nicole struggled to project a casual attitude. Aware she was wasting her scant time with Quinn but unable to alter her feelings, she craved the sanctuary of her room where she’d be free to let the pain out.
She left half the pie uneaten on the plate. Subdued once more, Quinn didn’t comment on it. He was quiet during their return stroll to the boardinghouse. Dusk cast a yellow haze over the river. A mourning dove cooed above them. With every step, her heart sank a little lower.
Quinn didn’t accompany her to the veranda. Instead, he stopped beneath the leafy bower of a dogwood tree, where they had a modicum of privacy.
“I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”
Nicole dug her fingers into her skirts, uncaring she was crumpling the delicate lace. “I understand.”
“Donald is a trustworthy assistant,” he went on, “but he’s not...you.”