She rested her chin on her hand and stared at him. “Why?”
He stared back. They’d been through so much together. Raised by their aunts, they’d stuck together through thick and thin. She’d never wanted to live anywhere else, while he’d yearned for big-city lights and a thriving career.
She poured heavy cream into her coffee and stirred as she waited. When she lifted a brow, he grinned and shrugged. “You can’t repeat it until the news comes out in the paper. Well, you can tell Carson, but that’s all.”
“Like I would.”
“I’m opening my own architectural business here. My first project is an organic town farm.”
Her eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful! But what’s a town farm, exactly?”
“The town will own it and manage it. They’ll grow organic food to sell. There will be a farmers’ market out there, a pumpkin patch, and the old house will be restored as it was in the 1800s as an attraction.”
“I love the idea! Where will it be?”
“The old Bristol homestead.”
“That will be perfect! It’s been derelict for years. But it doesn’t explain why you’re doing this. I’ll be glad to have you here, but you’re not telling me the whole story.”
“True enough.” He exhaled. “I’m lonely, Nat. Pretty silly, isn’t it? Millions of people around me, but I don’t know any of them. None of them look me in the eye and wish me good morning when we pass on the street.”
Her eyes softened, and she reached across the table to take his hand. “Have you tried joining in at your church? Maybe doing some community work of some kind.”
“I’ve tried all that. City people are different from my friends here in Smitten. I had a date the other night with a young woman from my church. I tried to talk to her about a family that had lost everything in a fire, but she kept changing the subject to the great deal she’d found on shoes. I realized then I don’t belong there like I thought I did.”
She released his hand and picked up her coffee cup. “Just be sure you know what you’re doing. You’ve got a great job and you’re about to be made a partner.”
“The next morning I got that offer,” he admitted. “With a hefty raise. But more money wouldn’t make me happy. You make me happy. Aunt Rose and Violet and Petunia make me happy.” He picked up his fork. “I’m tired of being alone.”
She sipped her coffee before she answered, studying him over the top of her cup with a penetrating gaze. “You’re ready to settle down, aren’t you? Is that what this is all about?”
His face heated, but he held her gaze. “I might if I could find the right woman.” For a moment Heather’s face flashed through his mind. He’d ruined that, though. “You and Carson have something pretty special. I’m not sure I could ever find that.”
Her smile held a joy he could only envy. “We do, yes. But don’t settle for just anyone. Wait until you know you’ve found the right one.”
He’d already lost the right one. “I won’t rush into anything.”
“So what’s the plan? Where are you going to live? We have a spare room if you need to stay with us for a while.”
“Aunt Rose would have heart failure if I didn’t stay with her. I’m in my old room there until I buy a house. But thanks for the offer.”
She hiked a brow. “You know, you should talk to Heather DeMeritt about this project. She knows everything about organic farming. And she cares so much about Smitten.”
“I’m one step ahead of you. I’m taking her out to see it tomorrow.”
“Good. Anything I can do?”
“Keep an eye out for an office space and a big old house for me to buy.”
Her expression turned thoughtful. “I have space over my coffee shop. It’s undeveloped and has some great potential.”
“Hmm, it’s a good location too. Right in the center of town. Mind if I take a look?”
“I’d love it. I’d even give you free coffee.”
“That’s a deal I can’t refuse. Can we go over there now?”
Her eyes went wide. “Without finishing your coffee? Are you crazy?”
He grinned. “I’ve missed you, Nat. Thanks for always being here for me.”
Heather opened the windows of the spare room in Molly’s house to let the sweet breeze off Sugarcreek Mountain blow away the stale air. Her friends had been quick to join her when they heard the word treasure. The room was about fifteen feet square, and every discarded piece of family furniture had been piled in here since before time began. Old end tables and lamps, dolls, toys, boxes of fabric for quilts, several bed frames, and old blankets made walking through the space difficult.
“So what is it exactly we’re looking for?” Lia sneezed ferociously three times. She looked downright adorable with her hair up in a bandanna.
Heather moved to the closet and threw open the door. She stepped back at the scent of old mouse. “Any family photos with names on them. Marriage and birth certificates. Christening or baptism records. I’m not looking in here, though. I’m sure a mouse will jump out at me.”
“I’m not afraid of mice,” Abby said. “I whack the ones in the library with a broom. You take the dresser drawers.”
“You’re scaring me,” Heather said. “Who are you and what have you done with Abby?”
Abby raised her fist in the air. “I am woman, hear me roar. No mouse will scare me from my appointed duties.” She burrowed into the closet until all that could be seen were her jean-clad legs and tennis shoes.
Lia looked around the overstuffed room. “You’ve done some harebrained things, Heather, but this tops them all. That old book can’t lead to anything. I doubt we’ll find a single clue here.”
“Maybe so, but you have to admit this beats working the book sale.”
“I don’t know about that,” Abby said, her voice muffled by the stuffed closet. “I like talking to the people who walk through.”
Heather pulled open the top drawer of the chest of drawers. “I’m a sucker for a sob story, and I’d practically give the books away. There will be more money for Molly if I stay away.”
Lia dropped to her knees and looked under the bed. “Here are some tubs with old photo albums in them.”
Heather joined her, and they dragged out the four plastic tubs. When she lifted the lid of the first one, she winced. “I’m glad Molly isn’t here. This stuff isn’t that old—here are her wedding pictures.” She pushed the tub aside, unable to bear her friend’s happy smile, one that said nothing could ever go wrong with this one, perfect love. Even before Curtis’s death, things had been far from perfect.
“And look, Hawaii brochures.” Abby had come out of the closet to look over Heather’s shoulder. “The ones she brought to show us last month. I don’t think we’ll ever get that girls’ week together. Not now.”
An hour later they had found nothing. “I have to get going,” Lia said. “It was a great idea, Heather, but I don’t think there’s anything here that will help us find the mine.”
As the girls all grabbed their jackets, the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be?” Heather swung open the door to find Paul smiling at her, and took a step back. His smile faded when she said, “What do you want?”
He held out his hands, palms up. “I thought we’d called a truce.”
There had to be dust on her face, and these jeans were old and ragged. The T-shirt was hardly flattering either. She wanted him to see what he’d missed and mourn, but he was likely rejoicing at his escape.
She opened the screen door. “Sorry, you startled me. If you’re looking for Molly, she’s at the shop.”
“I saw your car out front. I live right there at the moment.” He pointed to the big Victorian down the street. “I wondered if you might want to go see the farm with me this afternoon.”
“It’s Saturday. My day off.”
“I thought you might at least want to take a look. It won’t take long.”
She wanted to refuse. The less
time spent in his presence the better, but she was curious. “What time?”
“About two?”
“Okay.”
“Pick you up here or at your house?”
He was taking a lot for granted. She could drive herself. “I’m done here. We were just leaving. I’ll just meet you there.”
“Suit yourself.”
Lia and Abby crowded close behind her. “Hi, Paul,” Lia said. “We didn’t get a chance to talk last night. I’m surprised Natalie let you out of her sight.”
“I barely escaped with my life. She was trying out some new kind of gluten-free carrot cake. I made a run for the back door.”
The girls all chuckled. “Most of her gluten-free pastries are pretty good,” Heather said.
“Now maybe. You have no idea what I’ve endured.” Paul pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “Well, I’ll let you all get back to what you were doing.”
“See you around.” Heather shut the door in his face before he could object.
“He’s even more gorgeous than he used to be,” Abby said. “I never would have guessed a man in glasses could look so hot.”
“It’s the contrast of those classic good looks with the muscles,” Lia said.
“No kidding,” Abby said. “Does he know you got married right off? And that you have Charlie?”
Heather’s knees felt suddenly shaky. “He knows about both, but he thinks I’m still married.”
“You need coffee to clear your brain,” Lia said. “I’ll make it.” She marched to the kitchen and went to the coffeepot with the other two trailing behind her. As soon as it was brewing, she pointed her finger at Heather. “There’s only one reason you’d let him think you’re married. You’re afraid you still care about him, aren’t you?”
Heather’s head hurt, and she rubbed it. “How would you feel if you had to admit you ran off and married someone on the rebound and it ended in divorce a few months later? That you have never stopped mooning over him? I do have a little pride. I’ll tell him I’m divorced when I’m ready. But I need some space first.”
“When did he meet Charlie?” Abby asked.
“Last night. He came by the house.”
Abby’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, do tell! What did he want?”
“To clear the air and apologize for how he acted. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? To have all that humiliation brought up again. I wanted to fall through the floor.” Her face burned.
“It’s over now,” Lia said, her voice soothing. “Put it behind you and move on.”
“It’s going to be hard. We’ll be working together.” The girls exclaimed, and Heather told them about the organic farm. “I have to do it. My boss was adamant.”
A worried frown crouched between Abby’s eyes. “Just be careful, Heather. You could fall hard again. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
The scent of coffee began to fill the room, and Heather got down cups. “Don’t worry, I won’t go down that path again. Paul Mansfield is way out of my league.”
“Right,” Abby said. “You’ve never gotten over him. Not really.”
Heather turned away from their earnest faces. No amount of wishing in the world could change what was. She’d mask her feelings well this time. She’d forge a business relationship and that would be enough.
Men do not appreciate women who are constantly in histrionics. Modulate your emotions, and always speak in a calm tone.
PEARL CHAMBERS, The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship
CHAPTER FOUR
Paul lifted a tree branch out of Heather’s way. “Sorry, this is a mess.” The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt.
“A mess” didn’t quite sum it up. The recent storm had left tree litter everywhere, and the farmhouse had some missing shingles. The barn was more weathered gray than red, and the white-on-green shingles spelling out an advertisement for Smitten Creamery were faded. He’d found a raccoon in the attic yesterday and had called the extermination place. The screens were missing from the back porch, and the shrubs rambled out of their beds.
He glanced at Heather, then looked away. The sunlight gleamed on her blond hair, and her blue eyes matched the sky overhead. She was way too beautiful for his peace of mind, now that he knew she’d married while he was away. “It isn’t doing anyone any good going to wrack and ruin out here.”
Charlie tugged his hand from Heather’s and ran to climb on the old swing set in the side yard. The Bristols were friends of Paul’s great-aunt Rose, and he remembered playing on that swing set with his sisters when they were kids. It was crumbling into rust now from age.
“That’s not safe,” Paul said, and intercepted the little boy, who squirmed in his arms. He’d design a wooden play area, maybe a pirate ship or something here for the kids.
Heather wore a dreamy expression. “I’ve always loved this place. The building is really old, you know. Late 1700s.” She shaded her eyes to stare out at the rolling hills, still brown from the blanket of winter snow. The trees in the distance weren’t budding yet, so the landscape was barren. “It’s wonderful to have fallow ground to work with. It’s had a chance to rest and recover from the chemicals used in the past.”
Mud clung to Paul’s boots as he followed her a few feet into the field where stubble from a corn crop still mixed with the remnants of knee-high weeds. “What would you do with it?”
She contemplated a moment. “I know this will sound random, but if we put up a hoop house, we could grow organic ginger. It commands a premium price. And I’d love to see us establish a blueberry farm. The soil pH should be perfect, but we need to test it.”
“Blueberries. I thought we’d grow things like cucumbers, watermelon, green beans, peas. You know, the normal sorts of things.”
Her eyes sparkled when she turned toward him. “Everyone does that. This is prime blueberry land.”
“You’re the boss.”
She lifted a brow. “I highly doubt it.” Shading her eyes, she stared toward the house. “How soon are you getting someone in to fix up the house before it falls down? The barn too. We’ll need it for storing supplies. I’d like to see us have a few cows, maybe even a horse. The manure will be beneficial to the land.”
“Whoa, hold on. One thing at a time.”
Smiling, she started back toward the house. “Can we go in? It’s been ages since I’ve been in there. I want to show Charlie.” She motioned to her son, who was still digging in the dirt with his dump truck. “Charlie, want to see the barn and house?”
The little boy nodded and ran toward them. He still had a toddler’s figure with a round belly and chubby legs. Cute little guy. Instead of running to his mother, he stopped and looked up at Paul. After a moment he held up his arms.
Paul glanced at Heather, then scooped him up. “Want to ride on my shoulders?” When Charlie nodded, he lifted him into place. “Hang on to my hair.” The child’s small fingers wound into Paul’s thick thatch, and he winced. “Feels like you’ve got a tight grip there.”
He stepped onto the low porch. “Looks solid. Just needs paint.” The screen door hung off one hinge. He opened it out of the way and inserted the key into the lock. He had to finagle it before the lock clicked and he could open the door. Paul wrinkled his nose at the rush of stale air.
“It’s stinky,” Charlie said.
“Sure is.” Paul stepped across the threshold.
Heather followed him, and she stepped to the center of the room and twirled, a ballerina in jeans. “I just love this house! There’s so much history here. I can imagine the people who built it. Look at the low ceilings and the beams. It’s got character.”
To him it had always been an old farmhouse with nothing special to recommend it, but he looked at it through clearer eyes now. “Look at these wide pine floors.”
She nodded. “You’d never be able to match them with current wood.”
He glanced through the fly-spattered window. The real plaster walls rolled like the hills
outside, but they made the place feel homey. There was a ton of old furniture sitting around, and even more, he knew, in the overstuffed attic. And more stuff in the barns.
She trailed a finger on the coffee table. “Lovely piece with good bones. Looks like an old chest from the Civil War. We might be able to use it in the new décor.”
He warmed at the communal we.
She looked around with admiration. “I could do so much with this place.”
Charlie began to wiggle, so Paul lifted him down. His eyes wide, the boy wandered around the room. Paul grinned and glanced back at Heather. “What would you do?”
“I’d give these walls a pale wash of light lemon. The floors need refinishing, and I’d give the beams a fresh stain. Don’t even get me started.”
His smile broadened. “I thought maybe we could fix it like it would have been when it was a working farm in the 1800s. I’ll get it solid, and you can have free rein with decorating.”
Her blue eyes widened and she squealed, then flung her arms around him. He embraced her automatically and found her so much softer than he’d expected. And so very desirable.
He quickly dropped his arms to his side and cleared his throat. “The carpenter is coming this afternoon. I’ll let you tell him what you want done.”
On Friday night most of the book group members showed up. Fifteen women packed the room. Heather passed coffee and tea around as the women settled into the comfortable sofas and chairs around the fireplace. The fire snapped and crackled, a homey sound that relaxed her as she settled onto the sofa with a throw on her legs.
The murmur of voices escalated when Molly joined them. Choruses of “How are you doing?” and “What can I do to help?” circled the group. Heather gave her friend’s expression a quick once-over and decided she was going to weather the concern fairly well. Her smile was genuine, though sadness still lurked in her eyes. After all, it had only been ten days since Curtis died.
“Thanks for everything,” Molly said. “We’re managing.”
Smitten Book Club Page 3