East of Easy

by Linda Bleser

  Home. Kate had thought it would always be here waiting for her. Now that she was back, she wondered why she’d waited so long. How many times had Lillian begged her to come home for a visit? The years had slipped by while Kate had made one excuse after another, too afraid to face the small-town gossip that had sent her running in the first place.

  Pushing the negative thoughts aside, Kate busied herself around the kitchen, feeling like an intruder as she opened drawers and cabinets. She tucked the last covered casserole into the freezer, wrapped the cookies and desserts dropped off by neighbors, wiped the counter, then went through the house turning lights on. It was too dark, too quiet.

  Her overnight bag rested against the sofa where she’d left it that morning. It seemed so long ago. She hadn’t had a moment to herself since she’d arrived, and now that she was alone, the silence felt suffocating. She carried the suitcase into her old bedroom and placed it on the familiar lace-edged comforter. Matching curtains fluttered in the window. Nothing had changed in this room. The linens were crisp and fresh in anticipation of her arrival, and the scent of lemon polish hung in the air. It was almost as if she’d never left.

  She unzipped her bag and unpacked the few things she’d brought along. She’d only intended to stay the weekend and realized she’d have to pick up a few things now that her plans had changed. Maybe she’d drive into Phoenix during the week and do some shopping.

  The doorbell jangled, interrupting her thoughts. Kate clutched a folded pair of jeans to her chest. Who could that be? She didn’t think she could stand another neighbor dropping by to offer condolences. She stood very still, hoping whoever it was would go away. Another buzz convinced her otherwise. She sighed and dropped the jeans onto the bed.

  Kate trudged to the door. Every ounce of strength seemed to have been drained from her body, leaving her limp. With a sigh, she opened the front door then blinked in surprise. Standing on the porch step was a boy of eight or nine with tousled sun-bleached hair and tear-stained cheeks. He held up a handful of sagging wildflowers.

  “These are for Miz Lilly,” he said in a trembling voice. “To take up to heaven.”

  Kate knelt down on one knee and took the flowers. Only then did she notice the aluminum forearm crutches and metal braces strapped around his legs. “Thank you,” she said, feeling her own lip quiver. “What’s your name?”

  “Bobby,” he replied, brushing a fist across tear-smudged cheeks. His shoulders hitched on a quiet sob.

  Kate fought the urge to brush her fingers through the boy’s tousled hair. She clutched the wilting wildflowers to her chest. Of all the lavish displays that had filled the funeral parlor, this fistful of hand-picked flowers from a child was the most precious.

  The boy turned and walked away, the braces on his legs giving him a slow, side-to-side gait. Kate noticed the red pick-up truck idling by the side of the road.

  Max?

  She couldn’t be sure. It was too dark to see inside the truck. Besides, half the male population of Easy drove pick-ups.

  Her heart lurched at the thought of seeing Max again. That, more than anything else, convinced Kate it was too dangerous to stay in Easy for long. She couldn’t let Max Connors worm his way into her heart again. She’d spent too many years trying to forget, too many lonely nights crying into her pillow for a love that was lost and a trust betrayed. Max was her past. He’d never be her future.

  The little boy stopped before reaching the truck and turned back to Kate. “Miz Lilly was my friend,” he said, his lips turned down in a brave struggle to keep from crying. “I’ll miss her.”

  “So will I,” Kate admitted, watching as the boy made his way to the road and climbed into the passenger’s side of the truck. She turned and walked inside, then leaned against the closed door. “So will I.”

  The boy’s simple gesture broke down the control she’d struggled so hard to maintain. She slid to the floor, clutching the flowers to her chest and rocking like a child. How could she have let so much time go by? Who was she really punishing by not coming home all these years?

  Her chest heaved and tears of loss and regret flowed unchecked. She’d thought her mother would always be here, that home was a place to which she could always return. Now nothing would ever be the same again.

  Sobs clawed her throat raw and she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore.

  Chapter Two

  Monday morning Kate drove Jeff and Sally to the airport. Jeff gave Kate the keys to the house, the shop and his car, and promised to call before the cruise ship set sail. His last-minute instructions were lost in a flurry of hugs and kisses as their flight boarded.

  The newlyweds glowed. Kate was miserable. Just two weeks. She had to keep reminding herself as she drove Jeff’s car back into town. She glanced at her watch. It was only eight o’clock, but she decided to swing by the Tea and Crumpet Shop and check it out before the morning rush.

  She gave a quick little snort. How much of a rush could there be? Even if the whole town showed up, there would still be enough room left over to square dance. Kate missed the lights and glamour and excitement of New York, the adrenaline rush she felt walking to work each morning along bustling sidewalks. She’d forgotten how deathly boring a small town could be, how monotonous all that wide-open space was first thing in the morning.

  Her longing was forgotten when she pulled up to the shop on Main Street to find it not only open already, but brimming with customers. Stepping inside, she was overpowered by scents—a warm mixture of sweet aromas that set her taste buds tingling.

  The shop was bigger than Kate had imagined, with enough room for dozens of round, marble-topped tables and wrought iron chairs. Bright gingham swags adorned every window, and a cheery glow came from crystal light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. Two waitresses bustled from table to table, a blur of motion as they delivered orders. The jangle of an old-fashioned cash register fairly sang as Arthur, wearing a white rolled cap over his bald head, rang up orders.

  Behind the counter, Nellie slid a tray of steaming, sugar-crusted blueberry muffins into a glass display case already overflowing with scones, muffins and sweet rolls. Her cheeks were flushed as she looked up and smiled at Kate.

  “There you are, honey,” Nellie called, wiping a streak of cinnamon sprinkles across her apron. “Come on in and let me show you around.”

  “Who opened the shop?” Kate asked.

  “Oh, I did,” Nellie said, leading Kate back into the kitchen. “I come in at five o’clock to start baking every day. We don’t officially open until eight, but Arthur’s usually here early, and if there’s a crowd waiting outside we just open the doors and start serving.”

  “You come in at five o’clock? Every day?”

  “Well, I always was a morning person. And we pride ourselves on baking everything fresh daily.” She winked. “That’s what keeps the customers coming back.”

  Kate glanced around the kitchen. “There’s enough food in here to last a week. You mean to tell me you go through this much in one day?”

  “Not always,” Nellie said. “When Arthur leaves, he takes a basket over to the fire house. We’ll usually send a few bags of goodies home for Max’s kids. Whatever’s left over when we close up is donated to a local shelter. Then we start fresh the next day.”

  Kate hadn’t heard a single word after “Max’s kids”. Nellie grabbed Kate’s arm and dragged her around the shop, but Kate’s mind locked on those two words. Max had kids? A wife? Why hadn’t her mother told her? And why had Kate assumed he’d stayed frozen in time simply waiting for her to return?

  She found the nerve to ask, surprised when her voice came out in a squeak. “How many kids does Max have?”

  “Hmm?” Nellie blinked, as if the question had caught her by surprise. She pursed her lips and gazed off in the distance, counting on her fingers. “Let’s see. I think about fifteen or so right now. It changes.”

  Changes? Kate opened her mouth then closed it again. What was he, a rabbit
?

  “You’ll have to ask him,” Nellie said. “He’ll be by a little later.”

  Kate had no intention of asking him. She didn’t want to think of Max as a husband and father, let alone populating half of Easy County. She followed Nellie but found it hard to concentrate on her monologue.

  Nellie’s tour of the Tea and Crumpet Shop included a huge stockroom filled with teas. There was black, oolong and green teas, Chinese and English teas, spiced teas and fruit teas, as well as breakfast, herbal and decaffeinated teas. There were teas with exotic names like Golden Kenya, Mountain Chai and Temple of Heaven Gunpowder. Kate had no idea there were so many different kinds of tea in the entire world, let alone one small corner of Easy, Arizona.

  And accessories! Kate couldn’t believe the ceremony involved in brewing a simple cup of tea. No tea bags for this crowd. Their selections were brought to the tables on individual serving trays laden with handmade tea cozies covering bone china tea pots, delicate porcelain drip catchers and cloth-lined wicker baskets filled with sweets.

  As Nellie finished the tour and led her to a table, Kate realized that the shop was more than just a place to grab a quick bite to eat. It was an event. Somehow the Tea and Crumpet Shop had become the town’s social hub.

  “Who’s that?” Kate asked, pointing to a woman in a gold caftan weaving between tables and occasionally stopping to speak with customers.

  Nellie rolled her eyes and leaned close, speaking in a hushed whisper. “That’s Adelaide Wilkinson. She calls herself Madame Zostra and reads tea leaves for a small donation. She’s a crackerjack, but the customers love her. Your mother said there was no harm in it. Besides, she’s good for business.”

  “She reads tea leaves?” That was something else her mother had conveniently left out of her letters and phone calls. Before Kate could investigate further, a familiar voice called out from the back room.

  “We’re up front, Max,” Nellie called back.

  Max stepped through the doorway, smiling when he spotted them. Kate noticed he’d traded his starched shirt for denim today, but the ever-present jeans remained. And they were still too tight, she noticed. Or maybe it was the way his tool belt slung low on his hips that drew her eye. Either way, he was the last person she wanted to talk to this morning.

  Before Kate could stop her, Nellie gestured for Max to join them at the table. She fussed over him like a mother hen. “Why don’t I just get you some tea and muffins? I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.”

  Kate shook her head, but Max spoke up first.

  “That would be great,” he said, turning the full force of those baby blues on Nellie. She bustled off, leaving the two of them alone in uncomfortable silence.

  Kate cleared her throat.

  Max studied her, his lips quirked up in a half smile. He stretched his long legs, taking up most of the space under the table.

  Kate felt the brush of denim against her ankle. She shoved her chair back and tucked her feet beneath it, out of Max’s reach. He was crowding her. In more ways than one. She glanced around, searching for an excuse to get up and leave.

  “It’s blueberry week,” Max said.

  Kate nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

  “Everyone in town knows that.”

  Kate gritted her teeth. Why did that sound like a challenge? “Well, I don’t live in town anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Oh,” he drawled, “I’ve noticed, all right.”

  Kate was saved from having to reply by Nellie, who returned with warm muffins and a steaming pot of tea.

  Max nearly broke the sound barrier reaching for a muffin the size of a softball. Nellie smiled indulgently and patted his head as if he were ten years old. Kate wondered when Max had become the Tea and Crumpet Shop’s official mascot.

  Max attacked the blueberry muffin as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Kate nibbled on her own, looking everywhere but into those challenging eyes. It was hard enough being back in town after all these years, but to be thrown together with the one man she never wanted to see again was intolerable. Especially since he still had an effect on her, making her heart trip and her knees go weak.

  That was easy enough to fix. All she had to do was remember how he’d ruined her life.

  She’d been in love with Max for as long as she could remember. He was good-looking, popular and could have had any girl he wanted in school. She’d been nobody—just a plain, gawky, invisible girl who hadn’t had the right clothes or the right friends. All she’d had was her good reputation. She hadn’t realized at the time how fragile that was, how easily her reputation could be ripped to shreds, making her life miserable.

  And it all began when Max finally noticed her. She’d given him her heart, her soul and seven glorious months of her life.

  In return, he’d lied about her and ruined her reputation. By the time Kate had realized what he’d done, it was too late to stop the rumors from spreading. The story had taken on a life of its own, snowballing with each telling until her reputation was more tattered than her second-hand clothes. Easy. That’s what they’d called her. And all Max’s friends had wanted their shot at a sure thing. The girls in school shunned her. The boys she rejected simply made up more outrageous stories to boost their own reputations rather than admitting they’d struck out.

  It hadn’t mattered that she was still a virgin. Even if she’d had the nerve to face her attackers, no one would have believed her. And so she’d done the only thing she could. She’d run away, leaving her family and her reputation behind. She’d left the town whose very name reminded her of those mocking taunts.

  The pain was as fresh today as it had been all those years ago. She had it all now—a good job, nice clothes and friends who didn’t judge her by locker-room rumors—but inside she was still that same insecure girl who could hear the whispers and taunts following her through the halls. Inside she was still the girl everyone called “easy”.

  She’d never forgive Max for that. Not in two weeks, not in a thousand years. And she wouldn’t fall for his charms ever again.

  “Kate?”

  Max’s voice pulled her back to the present. He’d finished wolfing down his muffin and spread a contract out on the table between them. He was explaining what renovations he’d done at the Tea and Crumpet Shop. Pushing the old familiar resentment aside, Kate tried to concentrate on the figures.

  “This seems a little high for some shelves,” she said, running her finger down to the total at the bottom.

  “Not just shelves,” he argued, “cabinetry. I’ve put a lot of labor into these built-in hutches and pantries and I’m damn proud of my work.”

  “Whatever,” she said, waving away his wounded pride. “The fact is you could have done it a lot cheaper.”

  “Cheaper?” His lips pulled into a thin line. “Your mother wasn’t interested in cheap. She wanted quality.”

  Kate felt her cheeks burn. What did he mean by that? Was he still talking about the cabinets or was it a cruel reference to her ruined reputation? She felt the old, familiar paranoia rear up, stiffening her spine.

  Kate stared at the papers in her hand. The figures blurred for a moment then cleared again. She fought to regain her composure, unwilling to let Max see her pain. If he’d meant to hurt her, he’d succeeded.

  Kate pursed her lips, pretending to study the contracts. Once she had her emotions under control, she lifted her chin and challenged him head on, anger tightening her voice. “Did this job go out to bid? Were there any other quotes?”

  Max straightened, tipping his head to stare at her. “Out to bid? This ain’t New York City, darlin’. We do things differently here in Easy. Or maybe you’ve forgotten.”

  “I don’t forget anything,” she said pointedly, working hard to ignore the way his casually drawled darlin’ could still turn her insides to mush. She knew she was goading him but couldn’t stop herself. “My mother was not the most business savvy—”

  “Oh, you’re wrong there,” he
interrupted. “Look around you. Your mother didn’t build this business by cutting corners. Maybe she wasn’t some fancy New York executive,” he snorted, the derision evident in his voice. “But I can tell you this—Lillian Feathers was one smart cookie. And no one took advantage of her.”

  “Maybe not,” Kate admitted. “But you’re dealing with me now.”

  “Oh? For how long? Until you decide this town’s not good enough for you anymore and run off to bigger and better things?”

  Kate drew back as if he’d tossed cold water on her face. Is that what people thought? Well, he was right about one thing. Her visit was only temporary. She’d be out of town faster than butter sliding off a hot biscuit. If it weren’t for Jeff, she’d already be winging her way back to New York. But she’d made a promise, and as long as she was here she intended to make sure that no one took advantage of her family.

  “I want an accounting of all parts and labor by morning,” she said, shuffling papers. “And a firm completion date. I don’t see anything here about when all the work will be delivered.”

  “Your mother and I had an arrangement.”

  “And I’m making a new arrangement. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a commitment for work that’s already been paid for.”

  “I see,” he said, standing. “Then I guess I’d better get right to work.”

  She nodded, dismissing him. At least now he’d know he wasn’t dealing with some naïve lovesick girl anymore. “Oh, and Max?” she called, putting as much steel into her voice as she could muster.

  He turned, his eyes dark and smoldering with anger.

  Kate pointed to his empty plate. “Don’t forget to pay for your muffin.”

  His jaw tightened. “I don’t have to,” he said. “It’s in the contract.” With that he turned and stormed out.

  Kate blinked, wondering if she’d heard right. She flipped through the pages until she found the addendum. There, in Lillian’s own handwriting, was a provision giving Max a daily breakfast muffin as part of the legal and binding contract. Wasn’t that just like Lillian? Always taking care of everyone, whether they needed it or not.