by Barbara Lohr
“Heck with Victoria,” Bryn blurted with fierce loyalty that warmed Emily’s heart. “The two of you go way back? The man would have to be crazy not to connect with you.”
Josie nodded. “Seriously, Emily. I agree. If he said he’d call, he’ll call.”
Elbows on her knees, Emily leaned forward, studying the cracks in the oyster shell walk that circled the fountain. “We were never more than friends. Mostly I remember working on that college project together. He was great at working out projections and assessing the competition.”
“Sounds promising.” Josie wasn’t giving up.
“We had fun with that project.” Smiling quietly, she got to her feet. “Come on. Let’s walk. I did help him with Spanish. He wasn’t much for languages.”
“Jackson sounds like the kind of guy who keeps his word. After all, you’re the new girl in town,” Bryn said with a knowing wink.
“Look, he’s taken.” Wasn’t he? They’d always kidded around together, but at Buster’s Hardware? That had felt different. “When I ran into Jackson at Buster’s, it kind of felt like flirting.”
“See. What did I tell you?” Josie nodded.
Having friends to talk this over with was such a welcome change. “He’s got me acting crazy. I’ve been on that Call Your Brother Facebook page enough times to be a stalker. Me.” She jabbed her chest. “A stalker.”
Josie adjusted her headband. “When I saw that you’d liked him on Facebook, I liked the page myself. Some of those guys are seriously hot.”
“There are pictures?” Bryn led the way across the street.
“Wait a minute. I ‘liked’ him?” Emily came to a halt so fast that Josie ran smack into her.
“Sure did,” Josie confirmed, rubbing her forehead. “I’d never been on that page before. Maybe I should make a list of repairs I need.”
“Oh, no.” For a second Emily felt dizzy. “If I ‘liked’ him, that means Victoria will know.” That didn’t sit well with her.
“Maybe she doesn’t use Facebook. Maybe she’s too busy cruising around, impressing everyone with that car. Who cares?” Josie struck out again down the cobblestone street. Emily and Bryn followed. “Let her know you’re competition. You’re an accomplished and internationally known nutritionist.”
Emily hooted. “That’s a stretch, but thanks. That woman in South Africa is an old friend of my mother. Sure, she signed on, but all Fiona wants to talk about is prune juice.”
“On Facebook everyone counts. I get likes for my floral shop from Antarctica. Some people are seriously desperate for a daffodil. I’m glad to have them pumping up my numbers.” Bryn ran her fingers through the wispy auburn hair that accented her high cheekbones. “I’ll have to find that page.”
“What about Malcolm?” Emily asked.
“What about him?”
“Why are you checking out gorgeous men if you’re dating Malcolm, the guy at the library?” Emily asked. “When I stopped in last week, he checked out my books. I had to wait in line behind Edna Delayne and Beulah Augustine. They both had piles of books, which he carried to their cars. That boy is an eyeful and he seems nice.”
“Malcolm is nice,” Josie said quietly. “Our numbers have jumped since he joined the staff a couple of years ago. He’s a sweetheart. Don’t you go hurting my employee, Bryn. He’s become a good friend.”
“Oh, Josie.” Bryn looked as if she wanted to say more. Instead, she leveled her lips into a straight line.
They were passing the courthouse which sat across the square from Emily’s apartment. She loved looking at the stately building. The early morning sunlight set the red bricks aglow. The impressive historical structure had filled Emily with awe when her dad brought her here as a little girl.
Home. She was home. Drinking in the fresh morning air that held a hint of the marsh and the harbor, she smiled. Then she noticed Bryn was blushing. “What is it?”
“When you’ve been dating someone and he hasn’t advanced beyond ‘such a nice guy,’ something is definitely wrong,” Bryn said slowly. “Don’t you think?”
“What? So you’re in like with Malcolm but not in love?” Josie’s voice rose with amazement. “But you’ve been going out with him for months.”
“Two years now. I haven’t figured this out.” Poor Bryn sounded confused. “He’s such a steady guy.”
Emily groaned. “Relationships can be so complicated.” Which was why she intended to stay away from them.
“I guess so.” Bryn set her heart-shaped chin. “I can figure this out later.”
“Walk-run again?” Emily asked. Bryn and Josie nodded and they took off.
Emily threw herself into it. Lately she’d been binging on chocolate kisses. Seemed like even Sasha was giving Emily the fisheye when she reached into the freezer.
By the time they’d done a lap around the square, they were all gasping.
“Okay. Stop.” Coming to a halt, Emily leaned forward and tried to catch her breath.
Bryn was still marching in place. “We have to stay in motion. Otherwise the blood will pool to your ankles.”
Hands on hips, Emily straightened. “I’d rather have it around my ankles than on my thighs. Fat ankles? I can always wear boots.”
“Bryn has a point.” Josie began a slower walk.
“Let’s go past my flower shop.” Bryn pointed to Rookery Road. “I want you to see my new window display.”
“Sounds good.” Anything to get her mind off relationships and Jackson.
Emily had always loved Rookery Road. Filled with small, slope-roofed cottages with wrap-around porches, the street also held a block of shops. In minutes they were at Bryn’s Blossoms. Jonquils filled the main window, along with paper white narcissus and purple pansies. How lucky Bryn was to work with flowers.
“This display is so cheerful.” Emily loved Bryn’s arrangement. “In the city greenery was rare.”
Hands on her hips, Josie said, “Looks very welcoming. I like the yellow and purple. How’s business?”
“Funny you should ask.” Bryn’s forehead puckered. “My lease is coming up for renewal. I’m thinking about taking out space on the main square.”
“Really?” Josie spun around. “So you’re heading for the big time?”
Bryn’s lips twisted. “I’m heading for curbside exposure. Everyone visits the square when they stop in Sweetwater Creek. I’m tucked away on Rookery Road. Flowers are often an impulse buy, but I have no chance of that here. My numbers are good but not great.”
“How’s your online presence?” Josie asked. She was always coming up with new ideas for the library website. Leaving the window, they ducked down Gray Heron Lane to circle back.
“Most of the orders come through my website, but I need foot traffic,” Bryn said, tugging on an auburn curl. “I’m thinking about Mrs. Miniver’s space.”
Emily let out a whoop. “We’d be neighbors. I’d be right above you on the second floor.” This sounded too good to be true.
“That’s a big space.” Josie rubbed her chin.
“I haven’t called yet. The rent is probably out of reach. Relocating to the square might be a pipe dream.”
But Emily hated to see her friend give up like this. “Isn’t Sweetwater Creek the place where dreams come true? Let’s head back and check out the shop.” The three walked in silence for a couple blocks until they’d reached the square again. The peacefulness tugged at her heart.
How she’d missed all this, from the Sweet Creamery to Coralee’s Consignment Shop. But most of all, she’d missed her high school girlfriends. Josie had gone to a different college out of state and Bryn had gone right into building her floral business. And she’d been successful. Emily admired her for that.
Marching down the sidewalk that formed the perimeter of the square, Bryn pointed to the empty storefront, two doors down from the corner. “How long do you think that’ll be empty?”
“Who knows? I’d call,” Emily said. They walked in silence until they rea
ched the large, empty windows.
“I miss Mrs. Miniver since she left for Florida.” Josie peered through the glass.
“Heck, yeah.” Emily frowned at the bare counters through the smudged glass. “She always had cool crystals.”
“The woman was a trip.” Josie smiled, remembering. “I liked the card readings she did back in the corner when the shop was quiet.”
Stepping back and glancing up at her own window, Emily said, “Bryn, I’d sure love having you downstairs from me.”
“Too good to be true, right?” Bryn’s face brightened with hope. Clearly her heart was set. Every girl should have her dream. “Sure, I’d have to make some improvements, but I’d be happy to do it.”
Minerva had told Emily that she might be selling the building. She’d said something about having Emily’s lease grandfathered in if she did. Having Bryn in the shop below would make Emily feel more secure. “So far, I don’t think I’ve heard anyone downstairs.”
She glanced at the tall town clock standing on the corner. The hands showed that it was almost nine. Her laptop was waiting for her, although she’d checked her messages before she put on her walking shoes. When they reached the corner of the park, they split up.
“Bet you a Sea Turtle Sundae at Sweet Creamery he’s going to call,” Josie said, waving goodbye.
“You’re on.” That’s not going to happen.
“He will!” Bryn hollered.
Let’s not tell the whole town. “See you later,” Emily called out as she broke into a jog and turned the corner. A back alley led to the entrances of the buildings. Fishing a key from her pocket, Emily slowed to a walk.
Josie and Bryn lifted her spirits when she got into a slump. She couldn’t confide in her parents. Not about things that mattered, like men. She’d never gone into any detail about Eric. And she hadn’t told them about seeing a therapist for her panic problem. Her mother loved crowded rooms. She was a social butterfly. No, her parents would never understand. And they’d be worried.
She unlocked her door. Maybe someday she’d love lots of people milling around in a room again. But she sure wasn’t there yet.
Chapter 3
When the phone rang right before noon, Emily figured it was her mother. Every day her mother called around lunchtime, checking up on her “little girl.” Emily was working on her blog, answering emails and working out a diet plan for a new client.
Clicking on the phone, she said, “Hi, Mom.”
Silence. She cleared her throat. “Um, hello?”
“This isn’t your mother, okay?”
Emily could hear the smile in Jackson’s voice. She owed Josie a Sea Turtle Sundae. But that wasn’t the thought that made her mouth run dry. “How–how are you doing?”
“Fine. I’ve got a few minutes. Mind if I stop by?” Jackson had never been one for small talk. “I’ll check out your leak.”
“Oh, okay.” Her apartment was a mess and so was she.
“Hey, if this isn’t a good time, just tell me.” His mellow, concerned tone turned her to mush. How silly.
Then it hit her. Was this like an appointment? The kind where she’d pay? Emily better make things clear. “Guess I should ask about your rates.” How embarrassing. But with the move and everything, she was on a tight budget.
“Emily. Come on. You’re an old friend.” Now he was scolding her. “I’d like to help.”
Chill out. “Oh. Okay. Sure. You know where I am. The door’s off the alley in back.”
“Great. I’ll be there in five.” And he ended the call.
Would her leak proofing pass muster? Emily was pretty proud of her work. The glue and duct tape seemed to help. At least it slowed the dripping.
But her apartment was a mess. Running to the kitchen closet, she grabbed a large black trash bag. Then she streaked through the apartment, filling the bag. Wrapping materials, magazines, snack plates, dirty socks. She tossed the bag in her closet and shut the door. For now that would have to do.
Now for the kitchen. Opening the dishwasher, she jammed in the coffee and tea mugs stacked in the sink. Then she cleared the counter, tucking cereal boxes and crackers into a cupboard. This morning she’d left in a hurry to walk with Josie and Bryn.
Sasha sat in the doorway watching Emily with her big blue eyes.
“Sorry. I know you don’t like it when I rush around. It makes you nervous. Well, I am nervous. About Jackson. Go figure.”
Flying to the bathroom, she threw open the medicine chest, grabbed her foundation and smoothed on a light coat. Mascara and lip gloss followed. While her heart galloped, her fingers shook.
This was ridiculous. Grabbing the cool edge of the sink, she leaned into it. If she got this way for a male friend, how could she ever face dating again?
Well, maybe she couldn’t. And this was proof.
What a depressing thought.
Emily jammed her makeup back in her medicine chest and tore into her room.
Slipping out of her walking shorts, she pulled on the tie-dyed leggings her mother had given her for Christmas, following it with a big shirt. The leggings made her look as if all that walking might be paying off, and she loved wearing the oversized men’s shirts from Goodwill. They were roomy and cute over tights. At least, she thought so. Eric had always given her a hard time about “hiding her assets.”
In the end, she’d never had enough assets for him. Amber was a totally different story. She probably wore tight turtlenecks and leggings all the time.
Grooming herself on the closed toilet seat, Sasha regarded her with disapproval. “This is only Jackson, Sasha,” she told her fastidious, white Himalayan cat. “Think of him as our, well, brother.” Call Your Brother. Kudos to Jackson for great marketing. Her hands still shaking, she swept her dark hair into a messy ponytail.
The doorbell rang and Sasha catapulted to the floor. Visitors weren’t her thing. Any unexpected noise sent her sliding under Emily’s bed.
Taking a deep breath, Emily strolled to the door. She had this. At least, she thought she did and buzzed him in. Opening the door to the landing, she peered down. Jackson pushed open the door and her resolve melted.
His rosy cheeks were framed by dark hair mussed by the wind. Glancing up, he looked adorable. And not in a high school way. He was carrying a large green toolbox. Best of all, he wiped his boots carefully on the rug before coming up the stairs. How thoughtful was that?
“What?” he asked when he reached the landing and toed off his boots.
“Nothing. Thanks for taking off your shoes.” She couldn’t help blushing. “You always were neat. Your notes were organized for any class or meeting. Impressive.”
“That’s not a good thing?” He hesitated, toes flexing in gray socks.
Had she lost her mind? This was Jackson. “No, that is a completely good thing. Can I take your jacket?”
“Sure.” Setting down the toolbox, he slipped off the jacket and handed it over.
In the city guys wore these brown flight jackets when they were trying to pick up girls in the clubs. The bulky style made their shoulders look broader. At least that’s how Emily saw it.
No need for that with Jackson. His shoulders filled the leather.
She cuddled the jacket in her arms, the leather slightly warm from his body.
He picked up the toolbox. “Want to show me the leak?”
“Oh, right.” She was massaging his jacket as if it were Play-Doh. As a kid, she’d really liked Play-Doh. Emily hung up the jacket in the hall closet. “Follow me.”
The kitchen looked tidy, except for the darn water. She had a mini-Niagara Falls going on under the sink. So much for her attempts. The glue and duct tape weren’t holding.
The bowl must need emptying and she was glad that he’d come. Jackson set his metal toolbox on the floor. “May I?”
Like a goof she stood staring up at him. “What?”
“Is it all right if I look under your sink, lady?” Jackson asked with a chuckle. “I don’t
do anything without asking.”
“You always were polite.” They laughed together and she relaxed.
When Jackson squatted, his jeans made it clear that he either exercised a lot or his work kept him fit. She totally approved of both.
“I have a walking club,” she blurted out. What was she saying? Three girls didn’t make it a club.
He threw a glance over his shoulder. His eyes seemed to snag on her tights and then flit away. “Where do you walk?”
“Around the square. Then we loop through the side streets. Sometimes we go down to the marina.”
“You’re in a great location.” Jackson peered into the darkness under her sink while she studied his adorably messy hair.
“I love that square. The bubbling fountain. All the flower beds.” Your glossy dark hair. Thank goodness she kept that to herself.
Reaching behind him, he opened his toolbox and grabbed a small flashlight. Then he directed the beam under the sink. “So you bought that duct tape after all?” He gave a low whistle that zipped up her spine. “Will you just look at that?”
Okay, the wad of dripping tape didn’t look pretty. “I had to do something.”
“I told you I was coming over.” Was that a peeved note in his voice?
“Right, but…” No way was she going to admit that Victoria had scared her off.
“I said I was coming,” he muttered, slicing through the tape with something he’d grabbed from the toolbox.
“I know. You did.”
Jackson was right. He’d never missed a session when they worked on that project together. They’d meet in the campus coffee shops or the library to lay out their plan. By the time she got there, he had his notes spread out on the table and was typing away on his laptop.
She was always late. For some girls, college was one class after another. She was definitely the small town girl, crushing on one boy after another. It was like she’d been on a diet and here was a smorgasbord of men. It took time to realize that all cute guys who talked about their bright futures were just that––talk.