Tom’s stomach knotted with doubt. “What do you mean, not right for me?”
Of course, it was right for him. It was perfect.
Faith Latham, with her innocent-looking wide green eyes, was up to something.
She shrugged. “City council is pretty specific about what you can and can’t do with these original buildings here on Main Street. You can’t remove walls, for one thing.”
Was that so? “I’m pretty sure I heard you say you were going to remove a wall so you could connect the two spaces.”
“No, I’m going to reopen the sealed-off door, which is different.”
Okay, maybe it was. But maybe it wasn’t. “You sure about that?”
“Of course I am. I’m devoted to preserving town heritage, and while the statutes set aside for these original buildings allow for alteration to accommodate state and local codes, comfort, health and safety, they can’t be remodeled. No removing walls or mounting things like a rock wall that would damage or permanently alter the walls is allowed.”
Was this a lie, concocted to trick him out of applying to rent the building? If it was, it was easy enough to check the facts. One visit to the city council and he’d have his answer...which told him Faith wasn’t lying.
Besides, he’d had some experience with deceitful colleagues back at the advertising agency, and Faith gave off no indications of fibbing. Her gaze didn’t drift to the left. Her fingers didn’t twitch. Her gaze was so steady on his, he could see the gold flecks in their green depths.
Disappointment filled his chest. “No rock wall.”
“But I have a better idea for you, Tom. Seriously. New construction. You could have as high a rock wall as you want, and a zip line, if your insurance can handle it. Closer to the highway, there’s plenty of room for a huge store like that. Plus, you’ll be both visible and accessible to tourists on their way farther up into the Sierra Nevada.”
He’d already considered that idea and nixed it. “If I built by the freeway, tourists wouldn’t come into Widow’s Peak Creek proper, though. I’d prefer those types of tourists to come into town and support the businesses here on Main Street. That’s my way of investing in the town.”
“I see your point, I do, but—you can’t knock out a wall or drill into the existing stonework. So as much as I appreciate your intention to draw business here, it won’t work.”
Then he’d have to get around it, because this was the best location for him. The only location. “If I can’t have a rock wall, fine, but I want my store here for two reasons, and they’re sitting right over there.” He looked at his kids, who’d plopped against the shop counter to peruse the book Faith had told them about. Nora read the simple text aloud to Logan, who hadn’t quite caught up to her when it came to literacy skills.
Faith glanced at the kids, then met his gaze. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“My wife died last year.”
“I’d heard about your loss. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” His voice came out half-strangled. Would he ever be able to get through this without coming unglued? He took a deep, steadying breath.
“My parents live right behind Main Street, an easy walk for the kids once they’re older. That’s not possible if my store is located somewhere else. The store must be close to school, family, and home. I won’t fail my kids by being unavailable or missing out on their lives ever again.”
He caught the narrowing of her eyes when he said the word fail. But it was true. He’d utterly failed them. And his wife. She may have been an equal partner in their lifestyle choice—which included him working all the time—but she was gone now, and everything had changed. Tom could no longer work sixty-to-eighty-hour weeks. Nor did he want to. That old way of doing things didn’t work anymore, which is what had drawn him to church in the first place.
Then everything had changed.
He still kicked himself over how little he’d been around when Lourdes was alive, and his parents helped drive the topic home, too. He couldn’t change the past, but he could change the present and the future, which is why he’d moved them to the stable environment of Widow’s Peak Creek. Opening a store right here on Main Street was a crucial part of that new beginning.
“This is all about my kids.” Surely, Faith could understand that.
“I appreciate your intention to be an available father, Tom.” The way Faith’s eyes dulled, it was obvious she’d been hurt by something in her past. “And son.”
He almost laughed at that last part. His parents didn’t trust him a lick because he’d been an unavailable dad. No wonder they’d made him promise to do everything he could to put the kids first, forsaking all distractions, from hobbies to dating.
As if he’d be interested in dating again. Ha.
A thud on the floor tugged their gazes to the front counter. The kids stood, shoulders tense, beside a fallen umbrella stand. Logan seemed frozen, eyes wide.
“Sorry,” Nora said.
“It’s all right.” Faith’s smile looked real, as if it hadn’t bothered her in the slightest.
Tom rushed to set the umbrella stand to rights. “We’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll let you open your store now.”
She laughed. “Thanks, but first I’d better submit my application to rent the old livery.”
He’d really hoped she’d hear his story and decide his need for the old livery was greater than her desire for a museum in the space. It seemed they’d be duking it out at city council, though. “I’d better get moving on my application, too.” And start praying.
“Goodbye, Tom.” The hand she extended for shaking was soft and small in his hand.
She really was a nice person, with a well-intentioned plan for the community. But one of them would be disappointed when it came to renting the storefront next door.
And as nice as she was, Tom had no intention of losing the building to her.
Chapter Three
At a few minutes before ten o’clock the next morning, the cloudless sky’s soft blue hue matched the bicycle in Faith’s display window. She paused to admire the glorious spring day when she propped the shop door ajar, allowing the gentle breeze to ruffle her hair and her red print midi skirt patterned with teacups. She inhaled deeply the smells of fresh cut grass and sharp flowering pear tree blossoms. Her seasonal allergies might make her regret it, but she couldn’t resist relishing in the promise of a spring morning.
You make all things new, Lord. Even my spirits after suffering some disappointments yesterday with the mayor and Tom Santos.
Maybe things could be new with her family, too. Or at least better. Something about Tom’s manner yesterday made her think things weren’t all peaches and cream in his relationship with his parents, but they were helping him with his kids and clearly supporting him in his time of need. It made Faith yearn for familial connection, too. Her parents and sister were alive and well, but it had been so long since she’d seen them, much less talked to them.
The strain she felt with her family wasn’t entirely her fault, but she bore her share of the blame. The way they prioritized the newest material things, she’d always felt as if she’d been born into the wrong family, sticking out like an antimacassar-draped vintage chair placed in a showroom among sleek, modern furniture.
Her family loved her, though, just as she loved them. Should she reach out?
Not right now to her mother, who was in Hawaii with her husband, Gary. Nor her father, who was on a business trip in Europe with his wife, Valerie.
What about her sister, Chloe? Her job in San Francisco wasn’t the sort that had her on the road much. She should be available. She might not understand Faith’s devotion to antiques, but she could provide a little support anyway, couldn’t she?
Before she could talk herself out of it, Faith found Chloe’s contact in her phone and pressed the call butt
on.
She should’ve expected Chloe’s voice mail—Chloe was working, after all—but her stomach still felt hollow when her sister didn’t pick up.
At the beep, Faith smiled so her voice would sound peppy, a trick she’d learned in a magazine. “Hi, Chloe, long time no talk. I hope you’re well, and uh...” She was so not good at this type of thing. “I just wanted to talk. I’m fine. Honest. But do you remember me telling you about my idea at Christmastime, to open a museum next door to the shop? Funny story, that’s not funny at all, but someone else wants the building to open an outdoor gear store. Tom Santos. I’m sure you remember him from high school. Anyway, now I’ve got to compete against him for the space at a city council meeting in twelve days and I’m nervous. I have to make up a presentation, and I—”
The phone beeped. The mailbox must be full or something. Sighing, Faith ended the call.
After hanging the open sign on the front door, she carried her sandwich chalkboard outside to welcome customers. She situated the sign, filled the doggy water dish for any canine visitors and dusted the green chairs set outside her door. Today, she topped the tiny café table between the seats with three straw baskets filled with odds and ends and a small chalkboard sign reading $1.
“Hey!” a feminine voice called.
Looking up, Faith grinned at her assistant, who was wearing a dressy black top tucked into white skinny jeans. Angie Chang was more than Faith’s employee. She’d become Faith’s closest friend, and today she had a white bag from Angel Food Bakery in her hand.
Faith’s stomach pinched with hunger. “Are those raspberry almond scones?”
Gently, Angie shook the bag. “After the day you had yesterday, I thought you could use a treat.”
Angie had come into work yesterday right after Tom and his kids left, and Faith had given her a full recap. By the way Angie was clenching her jaw this morning, she was still as upset about the situation as Faith was. “I’m so mad at the mayor I could—well, aren’t we supposed to keep our mouths shut if we can’t say anything nice?”
“Good advice.” Faith followed her inside the store. “But thank you.” She hugged her friend, scone bag between them, grateful. She couldn’t count on her family’s support, but she had Angie’s, and that was no small thing.
When Angie pulled away, she shook the bag again. “Let’s focus our attention on the scones.”
Faith poured them both cups of fresh-brewed tea—today’s blend was English breakfast—and bit into the treat. The sweet-tart taste of raspberries filled her mouth. Delicious. Dabbing her lips with a paper napkin, she gave Angie a thumbs-up. “Thanks, Ange. You don’t know how much I needed that.”
“The scones are as much to lift my spirits as they are yours.” Angie pulled her shoulder-length black hair back into a ponytail, securing it with the black elastic she’d been wearing as a bracelet. “Do you need any help working up the proposal for city council?”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so. I mocked up a draft and confirmed with Maeve that the time limit allotted on each presentation is ten minutes.” Maeve McInnis ran In Stitches, the yarn store four doors down, and her husband was a member of the council. “I have over a week to refine and rehearse my speech.”
“I remember Tomás Santos from school.” Angie took a long pull of her tea. “He was a year ahead of me. Nice guy, from what I recall.”
“He’s still nice.” And nice-looking, too, but he could be nice a hundred ways and Faith wouldn’t lose sight of the fact that he was her competitor.
“It’s the mayor I’m mad at,” Angie clarified.
“Things would be easier if she’d agree to allocate funds for a museum. But she won’t, so here we are, trying to get a museum and keep Faith’s Finds firmly in the black.” The months between Christmas and Memorial Day were typically slow for her, and this year had proven to be no exception. She had to trust God to provide, yes, but she also needed to do her part and focus on selling inventory. “Do you think I should move these bracelets to the dollar basket outside?”
Angie peered at the beaded pieces dangling from the brass jewelry tree by the register. “Can you let them go for a buck?”
“They’re not vintage. Just ones I made.”
“They cost more than a dollar to produce, though. And they’re adorable. I say give them more time.” Her gaze caught on something behind Faith in the direction of the open door. “Oh, hello.”
Customers? Faith spun.
Not quite customers. Two little dark-haired visitors, one wearing an orange T-shirt with blue stripes and one in a pink skirt carrying a plush unicorn. Cuties.
“Good morning, Logan, Nora.”
“We drew you a picture.” Nora rushed to hand her a folded piece of yellow construction paper.
It read, Thank you for the book in childish block script, surrounded by crayon flowers, a car, a yellow dog, a gray cat and a—hmm. Faith wasn’t sure what that blob was. The kids had also signed their names in all capital letters.
“I love this. Thank you. Hey, meet my friend Angie.” She turned to Angie. “These are Tom Santos’s kids.”
“You told her about us?” Nora tipped her head like a bird. Logan, however, kept quiet like yesterday, eyeing the checkerboard on the farmhouse table.
“Of course,” Angie said. “Welcome to town.”
“Welcome to you, too.” Nora curtsied. “Where’s Bet-teeny?”
“Bettina?” Faith bit back a smile. “She’s upstairs, napping.”
“Her name should be Bet-teeny because she’s so little.” On the last two words, Nora’s voice was higher pitched than a cartoon mouse’s.
Logan side-eyed the checkerboard again. “We can see Bet-teeny later, Nora. We gotta hurry.”
At that suspicious statement, Faith folded her arms. “Where’s your dad?”
“Next door.” Nora pulled Logan over to the checkerboard. “We came to give you the paper and visit Bet-teeny and play checkers.”
Surely, he’d been the one to send them over with the paper, but Faith exchanged a glance with Angie. “He knows you’re here, right? Delivering the card.”
Logan pulled the red checkers toward him. “I’m red, Nora.”
That wasn’t an answer. “Does your dad know where you are right now?”
“Nora! Logan!” Tom’s frantic tones carried in from outside. That answered that question.
Faith rushed to the door and stuck her head outside. Tom stood outside the wide-open door of the old livery, frantically searching the street, chest heaving beneath his plaid flannel shirt from obvious panic. Much as she didn’t like that he’d been inside the vacant building, his panic was far more pressing. “Tom, they’re here.”
His hand went to his heart as he met her gaze. Poor man. He brushed past her into the store and shook his head as he made a beeline for his kids. “You two about scared me out of my skin. What are you doing here?”
“We brought Miss Faith her card.” Nora pulled her unicorn over her face.
“I said I’d bring you here when we were finished.”
“It was boring in the old liver-house.” Logan moved a checker piece.
“Livery.” Tom glanced at Faith, his eyes creased around the edges with guilt.
She moved closer to him so she could lower her voice. “They brought me a card so I assumed you’d sent them over, but I was asking them about it when I heard you call out.” It was important to her that he knew she was a responsible adult, even if they were in competition with one another.
“They can be crafty—and I don’t mean arts and crafts–type crafty. They’re quick.” He stepped back to the door like he was leaving, but instead he waved at someone down the street and then gave a thumbs-up.
A man around Faith’s age jogged past the display window, into the store. His blond hair and prominent cheekbones weren’t the least bit famili
ar. “Thank God, Tom.”
“They came in here to deliver a note.” Tom rolled his eyes and then gestured to Faith. “Ender Strong, Faith Latham. He used to work in a camping gear store so I’m picking his brain. Ender, meet Faith Latham and—” He smiled at Angie. “Your name is Angela, right?”
“Angie Chang.” She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and darted glances at Ender. Huh.
“Anyway.” Tom rounded on the kids. “You left without asking permission. I had no idea where you were. You know better than that.”
Nora rushed to embrace his legs. “Sorry, Daddy.”
“Me, too.” Logan stepped close enough for Tom to touch on the head.
He whispered something to the kids, then offered Faith a small smile. “Sorry. They must have distracted you from your work.”
“It’s no problem.” Faith liked children. Always assumed she’d have some, but she was nearly thirty and her one big relationship had been a disaster on par with the Titanic sinking. Would she ever have her own kids? Not in the foreseeable future. But she could hang out with other people’s kids to get a fix, right? “They can stay and play checkers if they want.”
Logan jumped up and down. “Can we, Daddy?”
“If you’re sure.” Tom’s eyes were on Faith.
“Honest. I don’t mind.” They didn’t have any customers, anyway.
“Just one game.” Tom nodded at the kids and they rushed to the checkerboard.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ender approach Angie and they moved to the tea cart. Faith expected Tom to return to the old liver-house, but he moved toward her instead, rubbing the back of his neck.
She might as well ask the uncomfortable question she’d been mulling since the kids arrived. “What are you doing next door, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Mayor Hughes loaned me the key so I can draw up plans for my proposal.”
Oh, she had, had she? Granted, there was nothing unfair or wrong about the mayor allowing Tom inside the livery, but it would have been nice to have been afforded the same opportunity. “I’ll have to ask her the same favor, then.” She kept her tone calm and conversational, fully deserving of an Academy Award, considering the way irritation pricked at her stomach.
A Future for His Twins Page 3