by Glynna Kaye
As much as she’d like to think that day had been overlooked by Taylor, who’d arrived a few days beforehand, that would be too much to hope for.
“It was white. Lacy. With a veil.” She’d found it at a shop in Canyon Springs.
“Where is it now?”
“I sold it, so I don’t have it anymore.”
“I wish you’d have kept it.” Taylor grabbed the remote and flipped off the TV, then plopped down in a chair next to Lillian. Propping her elbows on the table and her face in her hands, she sighed. “How come you didn’t marry that guy?”
Keep it simple. Kids want simple.
“I prayed about it and realized he wasn’t the man God wanted me to marry.”
There, that was easy.
Taylor thought for a moment. “How come you didn’t pray about it until your wedding day?”
“I did, but...maybe I wasn’t listening for His answer.”
“My mom’s never been married, either.”
“No, she hasn’t.”
Taylor slipped from her chair and moved to the window looking out on the sunset-illuminated garden. “She has lots of boyfriends, though. Do you have boyfriends, Aunt Lillian?”
“Not at the moment.”
Her niece looked back over her shoulder. “Do you want one?”
“Maybe someday.”
“Why not now?”
“Because...this time I’m trying hard to listen for God’s answer.”
Taylor nodded her understanding. “So you don’t have to sell any more wedding dresses.”
“Exactly.” She didn’t want to give her niece the impression that not marrying her fiancé was shameful, but a word of caution was in order, especially since Taylor and Denny seemed to be becoming thick. “Sweetie, please don’t discuss my almost-wedding with anyone else. It’s between you and me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“So how’s it coming out here?” Aunt Viola stepped out of her room. “Getting your shopping done?”
“I’m bookmarking items I think fit our concept, then will get Denny’s input to ensure I’m on track and within budget.”
“He should turn the whole thing over to you and focus his attention elsewhere.”
“He keeps his finger in the pie on most things.” That controlling trait again. She tried not to take it personally, but if he had so much to do here and at his real job, why not divvy up more responsibilities? Delegate the decision-making?
“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of Todd from now on?” Her aunt sounded hopeful.
“Probably so.” Lillian kept her tone light. Neutral. And her eyes on the computer screen.
“You should fix him one of those slow-cooked, melt-in-your-mouth Italian beef sandwiches you have such a knack with. You know what they say. The way to a man’s heart is—”
“Let’s not go there.” She gave her aunt a warning look, aware that Taylor was still at the window, all ears. But just then the little girl spun toward her.
“Mister’s in the garden. Can I go out, too?”
She should say no. Discourage further bonding between the pair, but at the hopeful gleam in her niece’s eyes, she didn’t have the heart to deny the request.
“That’s fine. But come in when it gets dark. And if Denny’s working, don’t bother him, okay?”
“I won’t.” Then she hit the door running.
Aunt Vi pulled up a chair at the table. “She thinks a lot of Denny.”
She didn’t need her aunt getting on her case about that. “I’ve already spoken to him.”
“About what?”
“About being careful of letting her get too attached. He won’t be staying long, and I don’t want her to get her heart broken.”
“Or your heart broken.”
Lillian stiffened as the awkward encounter in the Hideaway’s parking lot flashed through her mind for the millionth time. Although she enjoyed Denny’s company, that was an embarrassing fluke. Nothing was going on between them.
“Yes, if he hurts her that will certainly hurt me, too.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. You like him. Which is why you’re not giving Todd the time of day, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Denny’s likable, don’t you think? Responsible. Good with kids. Good-looking, too. If I were fifty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, he’s way too much like Cameron.”
“He’s nothing like Cameron. Where did you get that idea?”
“He’s wed to his cell phone and can’t wait to get back to the big city.”
Aunt Vi scoffed. “He’s a man who doesn’t know any better because he hasn’t yet seen any better. But I think Hunter Ridge is starting to grow on him. As are you, if I’m not mistaken. He has a contractor to oversee things now, but he’s not making any more noises about leaving as I’d expected he would. Something is keeping him here.”
“I don’t know where you get that idea.” Lillian clicked the mouse to select another page on the screen. “Besides, it’s too soon after that fiasco with Cameron for me to consider another relationship. Three months ago I was set to pledge my life to someone I thought God had picked out. I no longer trust my own judgment when it comes to men, except to recognize what’s certain to be a no-win situation if I were to involve myself with another city-minded man.”
“I thought you enjoyed that trip you and one of your gal friends took to San Francisco a few years ago. You couldn’t stop talking about the city—the shopping, the seals on the docks, the harbor cruises and those clam-chowder bread bowls.”
“A week there is not the same as living there.”
“You liked Boston when you visited there, too.” Aunt Viola’s eyes narrowed. “Be honest with me, Lillian. If Taylor and I had been out of the picture when Cameron came along, when he jumped at that job offer in Beantown would you have married him? Or left him at the altar because you loathed leaving Hunter Ridge?”
How many times had she asked herself that very question? “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m thankful I didn’t marry him. I think that at the time Cameron came into my life last February, I was acutely conscious that my next birthday would be my thirtieth. My biological clock was ticking loudly, and then there he was. An answered prayer.”
“Or not.”
“Or not.” Lillian got up and moved to the window to brush back the curtain and look out on Denny having an animated conversation with her niece. Definitely storybook worthy, with those broad shoulders and a generous smile as he gave his full attention to Taylor.
At that moment, though, he glanced toward the window and saw her standing there. Waved. Taylor turned and waved, too. Lillian smiled and lifted her own hand. Then let the curtain fall back.
“So you can see,” she ended lamely as she returned to her laptop, “why I can no longer trust my own judgment.”
“You say that, but—” Her aunt rose and moved to the kitchen, then looked thoughtfully at Lillian. “I’m wondering if it’s not only your heart you’re not trusting, but God, as well.”
* * *
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Seeing Lillian was just the thing he needed after talking to Craig, who’d insisted Denny not get in the middle of his dispute with Vic. He was going straight to Elden and wanted to handle it himself.
Yet while her presence was welcome, Lillian was the last person Denny expected to run into at the hardware store over the lunch hour. They’d hardly seen each other in the past week, having taken to texting as a means of communication. She looked taken aback to see him, as well.
“Are we here for the same thing?” She held up a handful of interior paint samples. Sand, Navajo white, pale parchment. “I was about to text you to see if you agreed a warm white would be better
than a cool one. I’ve looked online, but sometimes the colors aren’t true. They can vary from computer to computer.”
“I’m going with warm, too.” He held up a dozen samplings of wood stains he’d picked up when he first hit the store—weathered oak, golden pecan—then got distracted by lighting fixtures. “We should probably make our selections together to make certain we have a match.”
“Once we’ve narrowed them down, we can get a small can of each and paint a big swatch on a wall and stain a board to see how we like them side by side.”
“You saw that on one of those do-it-yourself shows, didn’t you?” he teased as he handed her the wood stain samples. “Or is that something all pretty small-town girls are born knowing?”
“Very funny. But hey, if it works, why not go for it? You can’t tell much with these tiny samples.”
“That’s for sure.”
“What do you have there?” She pointed at two folding display boards he gripped in his other hand.
“Flooring samples. I was told I could take these with me if I brought them back tomorrow.”
“Hardwood flooring in the entry, parlor, library, office, dining room and bedrooms. Tile in the kitchen, laundry, storage rooms and breakfast nook, right?”
“Good memory.”
Together they walked to the front of the store, out the exit and onto the sidewalk. He drew to a halt, not willing to scale their communication back to texting just yet. It was a blue-skied autumn day, the scent of sun-warmed pine filling his senses, and Lillian was looking lovely in an emerald turtleneck sweater and skirt.
“Our paths,” he ventured, “haven’t crossed much lately. You must be keeping busy.”
“The library, mostly. And when I’m not buried on the job, I’m trying to keep out from underfoot of Todd and his crew as much as possible. Taylor isn’t making a bother of herself when I’m not there, is she? Aunt Vi’s oversight can be lax at times, and there are several hours between when my niece gets home from school and I get away from work.”
“She’s been no problem at all. I let her help me kick through a wall upstairs between those two bedrooms we’re converting to a single.” He squinted one eye. “But don’t tell me you’re a helicopter mom.”
“I’m not a mom at all.”
“Maybe not by birth, but Taylor looks to you in that role. I’ve noticed she’s minding you better now than she did a few weeks ago, just as you thought would happen once the immediacy of her mother’s visit faded.”
“It’s always an adjustment for both of us when her mother pops in or drops her off. Annalise isn’t much of a disciplinarian. No set bedtimes. No staying on top of homework. Too much TV and junk food. I get to be the bad guy each time my sister takes off with her and then drops her off again.”
“Taylor doesn’t consider you a bad guy at all. Far from it. In fact, she’s always telling me how wonderful you are. Smart. Pretty. A great cook. How much fun you are.”
He could be mistaken, but he was beginning to suspect the cute grade-schooler was trying to set him up with her aunt. Who, incidentally, didn’t seem to find him of particular interest.
It was a blow to the old ego.
Lillian laughed. “Laying it on thick, is she? Her birthday is coming up—I wonder what she’s setting me up to ask for.”
“A birthday, huh? I’ll keep that in mind and will take everything she tells me with a grain of salt. How old? Seven? Eight?”
“Eight.”
“From what I’ve seen, you’re doing a great job with her.”
“Thanks.” She took a step back. “I’m afraid I need to get back to the library. It was good seeing you.”
“You, too.” But when she moved off in the direction of the library, preferring to walk as usual, he couldn’t help but call after her. “Should we get together tonight?”
She halted and looked in his direction, a cautious curiosity lighting her eyes.
“I mean to narrow down the colors—with your aunt, too, of course.”
“Daylight would be better for that, don’t you think?”
“Noon tomorrow, then? I can pick up sandwiches and we can make it a working lunch out in the garden.”
She hesitated for the briefest moment, then nodded. “Okay, sure. I’ll see you then.”
For whatever reason, Denny whistled a merry tune on the way to his car, not in all that much of a hurry at the moment to get himself out of Hunter Ridge.
Chapter Nine
“Reba won’t do half as good a job as you’d do,” Aunt Viola assured her niece as Lillian poured three glasses of lemonade in preparation for lunch with Denny.
She’d thought he’d be here by now, knowing how quickly a lunch hour flew by.
“So don’t be concerned,” her aunt continued, “that she’s real competition for the position.”
It was now fact rather than rumor that Reba Clancy intended to apply. But the timing stank. What chance did she have of landing the job now that the other woman’s return was imminent?
“But she’s a widowed former local girl,” Lillian reminded her aunt as she put the pitcher back in the refrigerator. “With Reba growing up here and everyone knowing her family, that will count for something with the library advisory board.”
And Reba didn’t publicly dump the grandson of one of those board members.
Aunt Vi snorted, not something that the well-mannered former librarian was often given to doing. “As I recall, she couldn’t wait to ditch this town as soon as they handed her that high-school diploma. Now that her daughter and son-in-law moved here to get away from the Mile-High City, she suddenly finds our community hits the spot.”
“I can understand the appeal.”
“Well, you deserve the job and I think I should have something to say about it since I held down the fort for decades.”
While Lillian appreciated her aunt’s vote of confidence, in reality Reba had considerably more experience than Lillian and was taking an extra-early retirement from a library in Denver to move closer so she could enjoy her grandkids. No doubt the position interested her as much as it did Lillian, and for the same reasons. She wanted to work and live in Hunter Ridge.
Lillian glanced at her aunt, who was now gazing thoughtfully out the window at the garden. Despite attempts to rally, the older woman’s spirits had faltered noticeably after learning for certain that Reba would be throwing her hat into the ring. Without the full-time position, could Lillian hope to keep her family in Hunter Ridge?
“Anybody home?”
Lillian had left the apartment door open, and Denny’s voice echoed from the front entry. The place was so quiet when Todd’s crew left the premises for their lunch break or at the end of a workday.
Denny appeared in the doorway. “Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe the line at the grocery-store deli.” He set down the display boards, then held up three white bags. “I brought you something, too, Viola.”
“Aren’t you sweet.”
Lillian stood and gathered up the paint and wood stain samples she’d been sorting on the table. “Should we head outside? I need to be back at the library in forty-five minutes.”
“You two go on ahead.” Aunt Vi took one of the bags from Denny. “I need to call and check on a friend.”
“Once we narrow down the selections, you can give us your opinion,” Lillian assured her aunt with a concerned glance at her. Was she truly intending to place a phone call, or was she not feeling well and planned to lie down and rest?
Outside they chose a gazebo table where Lillian placed glasses of lemonade before spreading out the interior finish samples between the two of them.
“They’re already making great headway, but it’s awfully quiet around here when the crew’s out, isn’t it?” Denny pulled wrapped sandwiches from the bags and handed her one, then split open a package of
chips and placed it where they could be reached. “I hope smoked turkey suits you.”
“Perfect, thanks.” She gazed around the secluded garden, acutely conscious that she was sharing a private lunch with the man who just last week she and her aunt had been discussing. Of course she liked Denny. Who wouldn’t? But her aunt was way off base with her romantic speculation. “I’m not around much during the day, but I enjoy hearing the crew at work. Their banter and laughter. Then at the end of the day when they leave, I always go through the house and poke around in nooks and crannies they’ve exposed in the walls.”
“Looking for—?”
“The Newell family treasure.”
“Ah, right. Forgot.”
“You don’t think there’s anything to it, do you? You just think it’s a silly family fabrication.”
“Who am I to judge? I just question what kind of ‘treasure’ someone in a town like this would have that needed hiding. A pinecone collection? Butterflies?” He leaned forward, his gaze suddenly intent. “Your great-great-granddaddy wasn’t Al Capone, was he?”
She laughed. “Not to my knowledge. And like I said earlier, nobody knows anything about it except that my great-great-grandfather once made reference to the so-called treasure’s existence.”
Taking a bite of her sandwich, she chewed, then swallowed before pushing three paint samples in his direction. “What do you think of these?”
“I like the lightest one. What about you?”
“Same here. We’ll have to put window treatments up for privacy and warmth, but a light paint should help counter that.”
He nodded. “I’m good with it. How about the stain for the doors and woodwork?”
She took a sip of lemonade. “I’m thinking the interior doors, trim and baseboards should be painted the same color as the walls. Then we can stain the window frames.”
“That would help open it up visually.”
“I’d like to avoid having the hardwood floors be that nearly black tone that’s popular on the renovation shows. I can’t help but think that a few years from now it will be passé, and everyone will start ripping them out or covering them up with another kind of treatment. Besides, it’s way too dark for the look we’re trying to establish in here.”