by Mia Ross
“Oh, look at you two!” Brenda exclaimed when they arrived, snapping a picture before they were even in the door. “You look fabulous together. Don’t they, Steve?”
“Definitely.” Obviously humoring his wife, the patient man gave Paul a hang-in-there glance before trailing after Brenda on her way to the stage.
“I don’t know how he does it,” Paul murmured while he grabbed two cups of punch from the drinks table. “She’d wear me out in a week.”
Sipping her drink, Chelsea shrugged. “I guess when someone’s really important to you, you learn to love all the parts of them.”
“You ever get that far with anyone?” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now that he had, he did his best to come across as curious instead of as though he was dying to hear her response.
“Not really,” she confided with a wry smile. “A few times I thought I had, but they turned out to be more fondness than love. How ’bout you?”
“Me neither. I mean, I like women, but they all kinda blend together after a while.”
Except for you, he added silently. Now that he’d acknowledged his growing feelings for Chelsea, the thought of her leaving in a couple of weeks started gnawing at his gut. When had he decided she was special? Searching his memory, he couldn’t come up with anything. But that didn’t change the fact that somewhere along the line he’d stopped viewing her as a business associate and started seeing her as something more. The big question was, now that he did, what was he going to do about it?
The answer to that surfaced when the DJ’s quick-tempo song ended and he announced, “Okay, now we’re going to slow things down a little. I hear your valedictorian and salutatorian are here somewhere. Paul Barrett and Chelsea Barnes, come on up.”
Taking Chelsea’s cup, Paul set them both down and crooked his arm, gentleman-style. After a moment she took it, and they strolled toward the area right in front of the stage. Amid the cheers and catcalls, she turned pleading eyes on him and whispered, “I know your buddies are watching, but please don’t embarrass me.”
Taking her hands in his, he met that hesitant look with an encouraging smile. “Never.”
After a deep breath, she nodded to the DJ, who cued up the song she’d chosen. Paul recognized it as something he’d heard on her playlist just the other day. A sweet country ballad about old friends who run into each other unexpectedly and end up falling in love under the stars.
He wasn’t prone to romantic visions, but with Chelsea in his arms and all those sparkling mobiles spinning overhead, the song couldn’t have been more perfect. As more couples joined them, he asked, “Is this supposed to be about us?”
He’d expected her to laugh, or maybe zing him with the kind of sharp comeback he’d gotten accustomed to hearing from this very spirited woman. Instead, her lips curved invitingly. “You tell me.”
Before he knew what was happening, Paul felt himself leaning in to kiss her. At the last moment, he regained some of his senses and diverted to brush his lips across her cheek. She bathed him in a warm, grateful smile, which he took as his reward for honoring his promise not to embarrass her.
As the song continued, she relaxed into his arms, and it took everything he had not to pull her close for a real kiss. They’d spent so much time together over the summer, this very personal connection to her felt natural and bizarre at the same time. He’d never regarded Chelsea that way, but apparently his emotions had taken a different turn when his brain wasn’t paying attention.
This evening wasn’t going quite the way he’d anticipated. The trouble was, he couldn’t determine if that was good or bad.
* * *
What a night!
Giving in to the warm, fuzzy sensation of being wrapped in those strong arms, Chelsea rested her cheek on Paul’s chest as their first song led into another soft ballad. She’d taken a real chance, choosing such sentimental music for a dance that spotlighted them in front of so many people. He could’ve easily held her at a proper distance, chatting with her until the music stopped and they could go their separate ways.
But he hadn’t.
She could still picture the shards of light reflected in his dark eyes, adding to the twinkle she often saw there when he looked at her. Those glances had become more frequent lately, and while they’d reviewed her website changes, she’d been treated to quite a few of them. More than the usual male interest she was used to seeing, they’d shone with admiration for the effort she was putting in to make his family’s business viable again.
Paul appreciated her in a way she hadn’t experienced before. That appreciation had prompted her to take the biggest leap of her life and let him know she considered him more than a friend. Discovering he shared her feelings thrilled—and terrified—her.
Their new status was a fragile thing, she realized, and she wasn’t at all certain about what came next. But she knew enough not to fill the cozy space between them with questions neither of them was ready to face. For now, she was grateful just to be here with him. Whatever happened, she knew this single perfect moment would stay in her memory forever.
Thankfully, the DJ switched over to a retro line dance, calling for everyone to join in while he coached them through the steps. The quicker tempo and clumsy dancing soon had everyone laughing while they sang along and tried not to injure each other. When things started getting out of hand, Steve and Paul guided Brenda and Chelsea in between them.
“There,” Paul said in between laughs. “Now you’re safe.”
While the crowd spun around for the next pattern, Brenda caught Chelsea’s arm and leaned close. “What on earth did you do to Paul? I’ve never seen him like this.”
Flattered that someone else had noticed his behavior, she decided it was best to play dumb. “Like what?”
“So focused on one girl. I mean, he used to flirt with everyone in the place, but tonight it’s like you’re the only one here.”
That was exactly how she felt, and Chelsea’s heart soared with delight. “We’re just having fun, like everyone else.”
“Right,” she drawled with a long, suspicious look. “Well, you make sure to invite me to the wedding. Don’t forget that dance was my idea.”
As the group peeled off into two separate halves, Chelsea briefly wondered if Brenda seriously thought she and Paul might get married someday. For all Brenda’s flightiness, while working on the reunion she’d learned that her old classmate had keen instincts when it came to people. If she’d noticed some deeper connection between Chelsea and Paul, it was probably for real.
If it was, how would she handle something like that? Her feelings for him were a confusing jumble of past resentment and present fondness, which made it tough for her to sort through whatever was going on between them now. While she’d all but arranged the circumstances so she could more accurately assess their puzzling relationship, she wasn’t sure what to make of the result.
Obviously, Paul felt something more for her than friendship, but what? And just as important, what did she feel for him? It didn’t take much for her to envision them as a couple, but as strong-willed as they both were, she couldn’t deny they’d have a challenging road ahead of them. Different in so many ways, they shared some fundamental qualities that made compromising difficult. Working with him at the mill had made that abundantly clear to her, yet here she was, contemplating getting involved with a man who aggravated her on a nearly hourly basis. But then he’d grin, and she’d laugh, and they’d agree to disagree.
Could that work in a relationship? she wondered. And if it didn’t, what then? She’d come to rely on Paul’s steady optimism to brighten her days and provide some balance for her more serious nature. If a romance with him ended badly, she’d lose all that and be on her own again.
The music changed, and she put the dilemma out of her mind to concentrate on the new steps. For all intents and purposes, she was getting a do-over of the senior prom she’d missed the first time around, and she was determined to enjoy every minut
e of it.
* * *
It was long past midnight when Paul pulled into the Donaldsons’ driveway. A single light was on in an upstairs window, and he couldn’t help grinning. No doubt Hank would have something to say to him at church about keeping Chelsea out so late. Fortunately, the evening he’d spent with her was totally worth the scolding.
Putting an arm around her shoulders, he walked her down the moonlit path to the carriage house. When they reached her front door, the automatic light popped on to show her smiling up at him.
“Thanks for everything, Paul. I had a great time.”
“Me, too.”
Taking her hands, he gradually reeled her in, giving her time to move away. Her smile deepened, and he held her close as he dropped in for a kiss. Still leery of rushing things with her, he broke away, only to have her pull him in for another, much longer one. Standing in the moonlight with Chelsea, Paul was more content than he’d ever been in his life. Step by hesitant step, she’d drawn him in until there was nowhere for him to go but into her arms.
Toying with her earring, he asked, “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was one of those guys,” he confided. “How’d I do?”
“Very well, actually. I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me.”
Picking up on her lighter tone, he gave her a quick once-over. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
That got him a bright laugh, and much as he’d love to stay longer, he worried about the consequences to her reputation. Not to mention his own hide. “I really hate to go, but if I don’t, Hank’ll be out here with his shotgun.”
“Probably,” she agreed with a laugh.
With a parting kiss, she unlocked her door and went inside. Once he heard the dead bolt turn, he plunged his hands in his pockets and trudged back up the walkway. As he was driving away, he glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the Donaldsons’ upstairs window go dark. Chuckling to himself, he leaned over to adjust the radio and noticed Chelsea’s wrap on the seat.
Picking it up, he caught the scent of her perfume and instantly flashed back to their first dance earlier that night. When his memories led him to their tender kiss in the moonlight, he gave in to his emotions with a sigh. Now that he associated the scent of gardenias with the most amazing woman he’d ever met, he knew he’d never think of them the same way again.
* * *
The Barretts never did anything in a small way.
Chelsea was struck by that thought more than once while she helped prepare a Sunday lunch that rivaled the size of most brunches she’d enjoyed. Once she’d rolled out of bed, of course. Now that her life ticked along on a more relaxed schedule, she’d left her night-owl habits behind for a more early-to-bed-early-to-rise kind of lifestyle. And, to her amazement, she actually preferred it.
Since Will wasn’t strong enough to attend services, Pastor Griggs had stopped in to deliver his sermon again in private for Will and Olivia.
Hearing the muted voices in the dining room, Chelsea smiled at Diane while she picked up another tomato to slice for the salad. “It’s so nice of him to come by just for them. How long has he been doing that?”
“Since Dad got home from the hospital. Before that, he met them at Cambridge Memorial to make sure they didn’t feel cut off from the church.”
More impressed than ever, Chelsea paused midchop. “That’s incredible.”
“That’s Barrett’s Mill,” Diane commented. “It might be small, but when there’s trouble around here, everyone pitches in to help.”
The nostalgic tone of her voice reflected how Chelsea had been feeling lately. “It sounds like you miss it.”
“I do, but when he had to close the mill, Tom was miserable here. It was too hard for him to keep seeing the people who lost their jobs, not because of anything they did wrong, but because the economy drove their company out of business.”
“Some of the old crew is back at work,” Chelsea pointed out. “They don’t blame Will or Tom for losing their jobs.”
“God bless them for that. Tom still couldn’t stand to walk down the street and think there might have been something he could’ve done to keep the mill going. So when my parents retired to Florida and we had a chance to buy their house, we did. It’s only a few miles away, but the distance and new position at the power plant made things much better for him.”
“And for you?” Chelsea blurted without thinking. When Diane gave her a direct look, she realized she couldn’t backpedal but tried to soften the impertinent question. “I mean, you raised your family here. It must’ve been hard to leave all that behind.”
Understanding lit the older woman’s eyes, and she gave Chelsea an encouraging smile that reminded her of Paul’s. “Sometimes, but I reconnected with old friends in Cambridge, and my teen program at the church makes a real difference for kids who’d go home to an empty house otherwise. My life has taken a few odd turns, but I ended up where God meant for me to be. I can’t think of anything better than that.”
Diane patted her shoulder and picked up the large salad bowl to take it out to one of the picnic tables. There was a stack of pots and pans soaking in the farmhouse sink, and Chelsea decided to take care of them so the Barrett women could enjoy their guests. Tying on a bibbed apron that read Kiss the Cook, she picked up a scrubber and got to work.
The mindless job gave her time to mull over what Diane had said. It wasn’t a secret that Chelsea and Paul had been getting closer throughout the summer, so it was no surprise his mother had picked up on Chelsea’s dilemma: Stay in Barrett’s Mill and see what happened, or return to the life she’d so carefully plotted and continue toward her goal of taking over the reins at Shenandoah Bank when her father retired? The first path led to something she’d only recently begun to consider, while the second took her toward the finish line of a race she’d been running for ten years.
Outside the window, she caught a glimpse of Paul with his two-year-old nephew on his shoulders, chatting with a neighbor. The pose seemed so natural to him, even while he took crackers from a small container and handed them up to his passenger. The toddler wasn’t the neatest eater, and she wondered if Paul knew his vintage Hank Aaron jersey was covered in orange specks.
Then again, she thought as she resumed her scrubbing, even if he did, he probably wouldn’t care. For Paul, family was everything, and a little mess was no big deal. From snack crumbs to the huge responsibility of reviving the old mill, he took on whatever needed doing with a cheerfulness that astounded her. The arrogant jock who’d strutted through their high school years had become a kind, caring man any woman would be proud to call her own.
Even you, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind.
This wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, but now she chose to listen. Because somehow, when she wasn’t looking, she’d drifted into love with Paul. Not the reckless kind of passion her parents’ failed marriage had been made of, but a strong, steady kind of emotion that could sustain two people during a lifetime together.
That was her true dream, but in order to get it, she’d have to surrender the high-powered career she’d worked so hard for. As someone accustomed to cautiously analyzing her options, taking that leap of faith was more than scary. It was petrifying.
While she stood there, caught in the middle of a battle between her heart and her head, Paul happened to glance up at the kitchen window. When he saw her there, he gave her the same warm, affectionate smile that had caught her off guard last night. Seeing it now, in a less intimate setting, confirmed what she’d been mulling over since their nostalgic dance.
The question was, what should she do about it?
Fortunately, her cell phone began buzzing in her pocket, saving her from further soul-searching. She hadn’t done much of it in her life, and even though she knew God was directing her steps, examining her emotions still wasn’t all that comforta
ble for her.
When she saw her father’s name on the screen, she let out a groan. On a Sunday? Did he never take a day off? Summoning patience, she tapped the answer icon. “Hi, Dad. How are you today?”
“Busy,” he replied gruffly. “I need you back at the bank this week, sooner rather than later.”
That seemed ominous, but she did her best to sound calm. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” Apparently he realized he’d come across too strong and adjusted his tone to something less doom and gloom. “But circumstances have changed, and I’m recalling you.”
“What?” she blurted, then caught herself and framed her protest in a more adult way. “It doesn’t make sense to do that now, with the project so close to being finished. The grand reopening is in two weeks, and I’ll be leaving after that.”
“Paul’s a clever young man. I’m sure he can manage a few picnic details without you.”
Delivered with the weight of a royal proclamation, his statement was so condescending she bristled with anger. Paul’s advice about not letting anyone push her around echoed in her memory, and she stiffened her spine for some long overdue rebellion. “I’ve put a lot of effort into this restoration, and there’s no way I’m leaving so many things unfinished for someone else to do. I’ll be back in Roanoke when I promised.”
She nearly added, “And then I’m all yours,” but she clamped her mouth shut before she could promise something she wasn’t 100 percent committed to. Working with Paul had given her a chance to try new things and develop some creative skills she’d never realized she had. He trusted her judgment, and she enjoyed the different challenges she met from one day to the next.
While her banking position was stable and predictable, devoting so much of her time and energy to it might not suit her anymore. Maybe it was time for a change, maybe not. But that was up to her, not her father. The dutiful daughter in her recoiled from the very idea of defying him, but in her heart she was afraid if she didn’t do it now, she might not get another chance.
“I see,” he said quietly. “That’s your final word?”