by Mary Manners
No point staying worked up. It would do absolutely no good at all. Once Mom made up her mind, there was no changing it. Beside, Reese figured he’d just wait it out. Peyton looked as if she’d never read the definition of hard work much less acted it out. Give her a few months, and she’d run home—wherever that was—crying in her soup.
Then the brownstone would finally be his.
Reese glanced at Peyton, who sat in Wyatt’s desk chair, stiff and straight as a saguaro cactus. He imagined she was just as dangerous to anyone who tried to get too close, with the heels of those ridiculous shoes she galloped around in like needle-sharp spikes.
Her death glare could surely maim. But now, as his mom issued her final stamp of approval on the deal, Reese thought he saw a hint of something else in the baby blues tucked beneath a forest of lashes. Was it tears?
Please, no. He couldn’t stand to see a woman—any woman—cry.
“You can keep the shoes for now.” Hattie’s voice drew Reese back as she patted Peyton’s knee. “You’ll need them to get into the pizzeria for dinner. Kami’s waiting for you there.”
“I’m really not hungry. I should get back to the shop and work.”
“Nonsense. Reese will take you over. You two have dinner together, talk things out, and then come back to get anything you’ll need for those memorial arrangements. Reese will load it and deliver it for you tonight so you can get started first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t have time for dinner.” Reese drained his cup, crushed it, and tossed it into the trash. “I have a pile of work to do, too.”
“Yes, you do, and it’s called mending fences.” Hattie gave him her best you’d-better-do-what-I-tell-you looks, refined from decades of practice. “Best not to put off what should be fixed today—starting right now.”
“I guess that’s our cue to go.” Reese stood and jammed his hands into his pockets. Maybe Mom was right—he was acting like a two-year-old who needed a nap. His gaze captured Peyton’s, held. “Think you can manage to make it across the street without tripping or breaking anything?”
“I’ll certainly give it my best shot.”
3
Peyton supposed they made a fair match—Reese in his dirt-splattered T-shirt and ripped jeans and she in rubber clogs that were like a disjointed splash of modern art against her skirt and blouse. It was enough to make her laugh out loud.
“What?” Reese slipped into the booth across from her. “You look like you just watched a video of you stumbling barefooted through the parking lot.”
“It’s not that.” She covered her mouth with the palm of her hand to stifle the sound. The aroma of garlic and Italian sausage, marinara and parmesan, danced with pepperoni and chocolate from the chocolate-lava cake showcased at the dessert counter. How would she ever manage to stick to her diet when the calories beckoned? She tried her best to dismiss the enticing scents while she focused on Reese. “Although I’m sure you found that quite amusing.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“Me.”
“Hey, Reese.” The bubbly server with hair the color of wheat sprinkled with cinnamon stepped up to the table with an armload of menus and silverware. Her hair color remained in a constant state of transition. Who knew what shade she’d choose tomorrow? Peyton already knew that guessing had become a pastime of all who frequented the restaurant.
“Hi, Jada.” Reese slipped back in the seat as she dropped the silverware onto the table and slid a menu toward him. He glanced up to study the girl for a moment. “Your hair, it’s…different.”
“Thought I’d try something new again.” She raked a hand along the shaggy length. “What do you think?”
“It’s…nice. It suits you.”
“Thanks.” Jada gave her gum a few good cracks. “So, how’s it going today?”
“It’s good as can be expected. You?”
“Just peachy.” She shifted the pad and pen to one hand as she turned to snag a water pitcher from the serving counter, and then filled their glasses. “You want the usual drink along with this water?”
“Sweet tea, extra sugar.”
“Sounds about right.” She turned to Peyton, scanned the length of her soiled clothing. “What happened to you?”
“He did.” Peyton tucked her feet further beneath the table as she jabbed a finger in Reese’s direction. A splash of heat kissed her face as she smoothed a hand through her hair, tucking a disarray of strands behind one ear. “It’s been a day.”
“Looks that way.” Jada pulled a pen from the front pocket of her apron and jotted a note across the palm of her hand. “I’ll bet you need some comfort food.”
“You’ve got that right. And iced tea sounds good, but you can hold the sugar overload.”
“Coming right up.”
As Jada swaggered away, Reese removed his ball cap and set it on the seat beside him. His hair, thick and slightly matted, tumbled over his forehead. The thin band of white skin just beneath his hairline spoke of how often the cap was worn to shield the sun. Peyton brushed her own bangs from her eyes before reaching back and releasing the chignon from pins that had come loose.
“Nice,” Reese murmured as it fell over her shoulders, skimming her back.
The tight twist left the strands wavy, which she disliked and worked hard each morning to remove with a flat iron. Still, waves were better than the unkempt, wispy strands that had escaped to tickle the nape of her neck and fall into her eyes.
“Why don’t you wear it down all the time?”
“It gets in the way while I’m working.” She flipped open her menu. “Comfort food…everything listed here is good, and these pictures are killing me, but I should have a salad.”
“Just a salad?”
“You have a problem with that?”
Reese took up his own menu, opened it and scoured the selections though he already knew what he would order. “At Pappy’s, a garden salad is like an act of treason. At least have a plate of spaghetti, toss a meatball on top. It’s the special, according to the marquee at the entrance.”
“I don’t know…” But Peyton’s stomach purred, betraying her hunger.
“That settles it. You need more than a salad.” Reese closed his menu, took hers and did the same. “So you and Kami are friends?”
“We are.” Resigned, Peyton allowed him to set the menus on the edge of the table, signaling they were ready to order. She’d missed breakfast and lunch, too. Would have most likely worked right through dinner, as well, if it weren’t for Hattie insisting on this meal with Reese. She’d really have to do better with the whole remembering to eat thing. It would do her no good to get sick. Even if sales poured in, it would be a while before she could afford any help. So she was on her own. “We were roommates in college. But I just settled in a few weeks ago, and I’ve been so busy since then, setting up my shop and planning the arrangements for Kami and Wyatt’s wedding flowers. Not much time for catching up or dinner out.”
“What made you decide on Clover Cove for your business?”
“I used to come here with Kami over Christmas breaks and even in the summer, sometimes. I spent a lot of time with her and her parents. It was nice, having a place to go.”
“Your folks didn’t mind giving you up for the holidays?”
“My mom died in a car accident when I was six and Dad…” She didn’t want to get into it. “I have good memories from here, and thought it might be the perfect place to settle down.”
“Might be?”
“Yes, because nothing in life is one-hundred percent sure.”
“Except for the success of your business since you’ve commandeered use of my grafting house, right?”
“Yes, except for that.” She lifted her water glass to her lips, her gaze drifting to him over the rim. “And, for the record, I think a grafting house is a great idea. But you don’t need the brownstone. You’ve got plenty of space on the nursery grounds. Have you ever thought of building something right there?”
“Sure I have. But that’s not as cost-effective as a building that’s already here and only requires minimal renovations.”
“I see, right.” She paused as her gaze sought his. “Then it’s important that you know I’m going to give the floral shop everything I have. That’s a promise. I have to make it here in Clover Cove. I have nowhere else to go.”
“Nowhere else? Why?” Questions darkened Reese’s gaze but, thankfully, Jada returned with a basket of warm garlic knots and their tea before he could ask anything further.
“Here you go.” Jada set the basket and drinks on the table and reached into her apron for an order pad. She flipped the pad open, clicked on her pen as she worked the gum between her jaws. “What can I get you?”
Reese hesitated before turning to Jada. His voice was soft, without the biting edge that Peyton found familiar. “We’ll take two plates of the special—spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Anything else?”
“Save a couple slices of that chocolate lava cake for after, along with a few scoops of vanilla-bean ice cream. That ought to do it.”
“Good choice.” Jada chomped her gum, motioned toward the kitchen. “Kami told me to let you know she’ll be out in a few. Fred just burned an extra-large thin crust pepperoni and onions meant for take-out for table six and Anthony’s having a bit of a melt-down. You know how he gets when he’s in that perfectionist zone—doesn’t want to disappoint the customers. So he’s remaking the pizza himself and threatening to dock Fred’s next paycheck, seeing as this is the third time this week he’s nearly set the kitchen on fire.”
“Ouch.” Reese grimaced. “That’s tough.”
“Yeah, well, it’ll blow over soon enough. Be right back with your food, OK? Hopefully Fred hasn’t burned the spaghetti.”
She tore their order from the pad and left with a wink and a toss of her head.
“Isn’t she a character?” Peyton watched Jada pause at the serving window that opened into the kitchen to tuck their order into a clip above the counter. “Bubbly.”
“Always has been. And I have a good idea that she’s the root of Fred’s distraction. Everyone knows it, too, except for her.”
“Why doesn’t he just come out and let her know?”
“Shy, I guess.” Reese reached for a few sugar packets from a dispenser tucked to one side of the table, tore them open and dumped the contents into his tea glass. “There’s no telling.”
“These look good.” Peyton took a garlic knot. Her belly yawned as the aroma of parmesan tickled her nose. “Smell good, too. I didn’t think I was hungry, but…”
“Hang on.” Reese stirred his tea and then set the spoon on the table. “Do you mind if I pray first?”
“Um…” Maybe she’d misunderstood. An odd feeling crawled across the pit of her belly, taking the edge off her hunger. “Did you say pray?”
“That’s right.” He folded his hands and dipped his head.
“Here, in the restaurant?” The odd feeling bloomed to full-blown dread. She wasn’t the praying-in-public kind. She wasn’t even sure she believed in anything—anyone—worth praying to anymore. Maybe at one time…but certainly not now, not after all that had happened. “In front of this crowd?”
“No one’s paying us any attention, except for maybe Jada who’s gawking from the kitchen, looking for the National Enquirer scoop.” Reese lifted his head to study her, the questions returning to his eyes. “But, we can step out into the dark alley if you’d rather. God doesn’t care.”
“Well, I suppose…if you have to…”
“I do.” Reese nodded. “I hope you’ll join me.”
****
Reese bowed his head and reached across the table for Peyton’s hand. He felt her slight hesitation, the smallest tremor as his fingers twined with hers while he spoke.
“God, we thank You for this food and for the blessing of our jobs, family, and friends both new and old. Please guide Peyton as she embarks on the adventure of opening her floral shop. Give her the strength, patience, and wisdom to carry out the tasks you’ve set before her. Help our newfound partnership to bring glory to Your name.” He paused for a moment, held tight to Peyton as she attempted to tug her fingers from his. “Help me also, Lord, to hold firm to the path You would have me walk. Guide me in my true purpose here on earth. Give me patience to wait on Your plan. Amen.”
Reese opened his eyes and lifted his gaze to find Peyton staring at him as if he’d zapped her dead-on in the forehead with a bolt of lightning. Her eyes widened, glazed, and unfocused, and she was so still he thought she’d stopped breathing.
“Are you OK?”
“No.” She shifted in the seat, as if coming out of a trance, and drew a deep breath. “I mean…I’m not sure.”
“I take it you don’t pray before meals.”
“I don’t pray at all.”
“Oh, I see.” The statement, so bold and direct, startled Reese. “Don’t you believe?”
“In what?” She tore off a piece of garlic knot. “God? Heaven?”
“For starters.”
“No.” She popped a bite of the knot into her mouth, chewed and swallowed before adding, “Why should I believe in something I can’t see or touch? Something I can’t hear or feel?”
“‘Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.’” Reese lifted his tea glass, drew a sip as his gaze met hers over the rim.
“Where did you hear that?”
“It’s from Hebrews, chapter eleven, verse one.” Reese set down the tea and unrolled silverware from his napkin. It clattered against the polished wooden surface as he turned to grab a pen from the table behind them, where a customer had left it along with a credit slip. “It’s one of my favorites. I’ll write it down for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Peyton shook her head. “Don’t waste your time. Praying just isn’t my thing.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Of course I’ve tried.” She shrugged. “It just didn’t work for me. Besides, if God exists why doesn’t He ever answer me or give me a sign…anything at all…when I ask him something? It’s like a radio station with dead air—nothing, not even a murmur.”
“Maybe His silence is the answer.”
“And maybe He just doesn’t care about someone like me.”
“Like you? What do you mean?”
“Forget it.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, the garlic knot turning to a brick in her stomach. “Besides, if God exists, why are people, many who profess to be believers, so hateful?”
“Oh, Peyton.” The words stabbed Reese, causing a sledgehammer of guilt to strike his belly. Suddenly the garlic knots lost their appeal and the aroma of spicy marinara drifting from the kitchen no longer enticed. Was Peyton referring to him? Had he been that callous? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t need your pity.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” He leaned in and drew another sip of tea to wet his parched throat. “Does it bother you that much, my praying?”
“It’s just…weird.”
“Weird?”
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” She smoothed her napkin across her lap, fraying the edges with a rapid succession of quick, nervous tears. “I just meant, all these people, they can see you.”
“So?”
“Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?”
“Why should it? I’m not ashamed of my beliefs.” But he was ashamed of the way he’d behaved in the nursery parking lot—and in the office afterwards. Maybe there was still time to turn things around. Hattie’s words echoed in his head…
“It’s called mending fences…”
“I suppose I’m guilty as charged.” Reese cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry for blasting you earlier.”
“You did swoop over me like a stealth bomber and fire the full arsenal.”
“Ouch.” Reese grimaced. “I guess I deserved that.”
&nb
sp; “It’s water under the bridge. No harm done. I forgive you.”
“Good. And I’m ready to shelf the bombs and listen now, if you’re still willing to talk.”
“I’d like that.”
4
Peyton fanned through her order book in the floral shop, scanning each carefully-noted message before stepping over to the vertical coolers and taking a mental inventory of stock. She had plenty of long-stemmed roses in a variety of colors and a plethora of carnations in vibrant shades of red and blue with an occasional touch of white sprinkled in. That was good, since she’d had a run on gravesite orders for the Memorial Day holiday which loomed just around the corner.
A palette of unadorned display wreaths complete with stands had been delivered via UPS the previous morning along with boxes of floral wire, a supply of vases and foam blocks in a variety of sizes. It was going to be a long day working through all of the arrangements, but she was OK with that. It meant the shop was earning a name. She was earning a name—and an income.
She thought of her father and the money he’d left for her—a meager sum by most standards but everything in the universe to her. He’d mortgaged their small house to pay his medical bills which, even after the insurance kicked in, were staggering. After burial costs, and paying back the loan, what remained after the sale of the house wasn’t much, but it was enough—just enough. And the cash was his final gift to her.
Peyton pushed the memory of those after-days from her mind and focused on the before. Dad had loved her—believed in her—enough to give her all he had. She’d vowed to make the most of his generosity, to grow it into something to be proud of. Her heart squeezed with the pain of her loss, even now.
It felt odd, living in a place where few people besides Kami knew her by name. Of course, she’d made several new friends in the weeks since she’d arrived, but with those friendships so new and fragile, they didn’t really count.
Could she count Reese among treasured new friends? He’d followed her back to the shop last night after they’d shared dinner, his truck filled with flats of plants and greenery she’d chosen for the memorial arrangements and an assortment of other orders that had come in online via the shop’s website. Without complaint, he’d unloaded everything, down to the last flat, and helped her stock the coolers, even whistling merrily while he worked. A tour of the shop had followed, where he’d offered a heartfelt compliment or two as she’d shared some of her plans for advertising and display.