by Kristy Tate
“But if you hear of anyone who has lost the coins, let me know.”
Officer Mack gave him a two-finger salute. “Will do.”
Ethan veered away from Edward’s Coins and Collectibles Shop where he’d originally been headed and went to the Oak Hollow Community Chapel at the end of the street.
It was cool and dim inside the old building, and his loafers slapped the Mexican pavers as he crossed the lobby. He found Mrs. Jenkins, the church secretary, at her desk in the office across from the sanctuary.
“Hello, Ethan,” she said, looking up with a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I found something, and I’m not sure what to do with it.”
“And you thought Pastor Mills could help?”
“That’s why I’m here.” Marc’s voice floated from another room. Moments later, Marc appeared in the doorway. He wore jeans and a black shirt with the top button undone to expose his white collar. “Come on in.” He waved Ethan inside his private office.
Ethan felt uncomfortable—like he’d been sent to the principal’s office. But Marc smiled at him and the tension in Ethan’s spine slowly eased. He played basketball three times a week with Marc, and he knew, better than those who didn’t play such a sometimes-violent game, that Marc was far from perfect. He was as flawed as his rebounds. Which should have been off-putting for a pastor, but simply made Ethan like him all the more.
He motioned for Ethan to take a seat in one of the wooden chairs lining the wall. Then, instead of taking his place behind the desk as Ethan had expected, Marc pulled out another wooden chair and put it directly in front of Ethan, so close that their knees were almost touching.
“So, what’s brought you here today?”
Ethan leaned back. “My daughter found some lost coins.”
Marc chuckled. “There’s a parable about that.”
Ethan explained the situation. “I don’t want to shake her faith, but I can’t use these coins.”
“Hmm. Why not?”
“They’re not mine!”
“You feel you don’t deserve them?”
“I don’t. They belong to someone else.”
“Someone more deserving.”
Ethan pushed his fingers through his hair. Why did he feel like they were talking in circles? Of anyone, Marc should understand why they couldn’t use these coins.
“Did it ever occur to you that these coins are exactly what Hannah claims them to be? A gift from God?”
“No.”
“You don’t believe God could put these coins into Hannah’s hands so that you could expand your business?”
“I believe He could. I just don’t think He did.”
“Why not?”
“Why would He care about a gallery?”
“Maybe what you’re asking yourself is why would God answer Hannah’s prayer with gold coins, when He didn’t answer your prayers for Allison.”
Ethan blinked for a moment and fought back a wave of frustration tinged with anger. His phone beeped with an incoming text.
He was late for his afternoon class.
Bouncing to his feet, he excused himself.
Marc watched him with concern. “If you want to talk about this some more...”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ve got to get back to school.”
Marc followed him out of the office. “How’s this? You try to find the owners—I mean really try—and if you don’t, you accept the coins for what they are, a gift from God.”
Ethan didn’t agree with Marc’s suggestion, but since he didn’t have the time or the energy to argue, he promised that he and Hannah would see Marc in church on Sunday, and left.
ZOE FOUND HANNAH AND Laurel in the bakery that afternoon. Wiping her hands on her apron, Zoe considered the two. “I know why you’re here,” she told them.
Hannah cast Laurel a quick look before Laurel spoke up. “We came to see if you need any help cleaning up.”
Zoe hitched an eyebrow. “And maybe to see if I have any donuts left?”
Laurel’s face split into a grin. “That, too.”
“You’re in luck. I do. And they’re all the pink frosting ones.”
Laurel’s face fell.
“What’s the matter?” Zoe balled her fists and put them on her hips. “I thought those were your favorite.”
“They are, but they’re not for us,” Hannah said patiently as if explaining something difficult to a child.
Zoe’s gaze flashed between the two girls. They both wore secretive expressions. “If they’re not for you, who are they for?”
Laurel pressed her lips together. “We can’t say.” Her gaze slid over Zoe’s shoulder and to something, or someone, out the window.
“Maybe you’d like some manly maple bars?” Zoe stepped behind the counter to consider the rapidly aging donuts and to also, nonchalantly, glance at the skateboard-toting boys on the sidewalk. Quickly, while trying to play it cool, she counted the boys. Laurel and Hannah couldn’t be interested in all of them, but just to play it safe, Zoe slipped five of the most handsome donuts she could find into one of her signature Bonny Baker bags.
“Is there such a thing?” Hannah quipped.
“I don’t know,” Zoe said, “but if there’s not, there should be.”
“Those are my dad’s paintings,” Hannah pointed out.
Zoe smiled at the paintings of nearby Santa Ynez Valley. “Yep. They look good here, huh?” She closed the bakery bag and handed it to Laurel.
“Why are they here?” Hannah asked.
“Your dad said I could use them to liven up the joint. What do you think?”
Hannah flipped her hair over her shoulder but didn’t answer. She elbowed Laurel. “Come on. Let’s go. I’m not sure this was a good idea.”
Not a good idea? How could free donuts be anything but a good idea? Zoe, aware that she’d done something wrong but not sure what, watched the girls leave. Good idea or not, Laurel still had the bag of donuts clutched in her hand.
The girls and the donuts had the boys’ immediate attention. Laurel and Hannah strode down the sidewalk, smiling and laughing as the boys fell into a ragtag line and trotted after them. Which ones were the girls interested in? The blond with the shock of hair falling over his forehead and into his eyes? The one with dark, curly hair and a thick build? The tall and lean one with enormous feet that made him look like he was wearing clown shoes?
Zoe got the mop out of the closet, rinsed it out, and began her closing-up chores. She liked to leave the bakery as pristine as possible since she always had to wake with her feet running in the mornings. She loved working in the bakery, but sometimes, like now, watching the kids out the window, she remembered that she hadn’t always wanted to run a bakery.
Travel tempted her. She saw lots of people coming in and out of the bakery, but most of her discussions included the words how many and that will be so many dollars. No one really wanted her opinion on the state of the government or her thoughts about the economy...or anything, really. Her life seemed like it was being measured out in bite-size moments.
She rolled her shoulders, knowing she couldn’t complain. How many people had successful small businesses in sunny Southern California? But what good was it to live in perpetual sunshine when you never got to go outside during the daylight hours?
She needed another assistant.
But could she afford one? Yes.
What if she hired someone to work two or three days a week?
But then what would she do? This was the crux of her problem. She’d spent so many years working, she no longer remembered what it meant to have fun. What did she like to do? How did she define leisure? She no longer knew.
ETHAN SLIPPED INTO the first available seat in the crowded auditorium. All around him, other parents took their places. Some looked happy, proud, and nervous, while others wore patient but bored expressions. A lanky boy with blond hair and green eyes caught his gaze and quickly looked away.
Why did
he look familiar?
He spotted Zoe and Courtney across the room in center aisle seats. Courtney waved him over, motioning to a chair beside her. Ethan stood and made his way toward them.
Courtney wore tight jeans, clunky high heels, and a fuzzy sweater—the sort that looked as if it would itch—while Zoe was in a pair of jeans and a faded blue T-shirt and sneakers. She had her hair tied back in a ribbon and her face scrubbed clean. Even though Ethan suspected Zoe was quite a bit older than Courtney, tonight she looked younger.
The kid with the blond hair ducked behind a program as if trying to hide from Ethan. Strange.
“Does Hannah have a part?” Courtney asked.
Ethan took a seat beside her. “Yes. She’s a rosebush.”
“Ah. Laurel is a face card,” Courtney told him. “This is a strange play, isn’t it?”
“Actually, I love Alice and Wonderland,” Ethan said.
“Me too,” Zoe said.
The lights dimmed and music began to play.
“The movie with Johnny Depp was terrible,” Courtney whispered.
“You can’t judge the play or the book by the movie,” Ethan returned.
Courtney sniffed. “Well, if Johnny Depp and Tim Burton couldn’t pull it off, I doubt the Canterbury school can do much better.”
“The scenery is fabulous,” Zoe said. “Did you do it?”
“I had help,” Ethan said.
Courtney laughed. “Are you calling teenage girls helpful?”
“Some of them are really talented,” Ethan said, but his lips curled into a smile as he thought of the girls drawing, sawing, hammering, fighting, and sometimes throwing paint on each other.
“Shh.” Zoe put her finger to her lips. “They’re starting.”
During the play, Ethan watched Zoe more than the actors on the stage. How had he never noticed how pretty she was? Or how her eyes sparkled?
Of course, as soon as Hannah came on the stage, his daughter had his attention, but as soon as the roses as well as all the other flowers left, he turned his gaze back to Zoe.
“Wake up, Ethan dear!”
Ethan bolted upright when he heard his name.
“‘Why, what a long sleep you’ve had!”’ the girl on the stage said.
The play.
No one had been speaking directly to him. He relaxed and pushed his fingers through his hair. Had he fallen asleep?
“Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!” said Alice. “There was a white rabbit and he was in a terrible hurry.”
Ethan returned his thoughts to Zoe. Could he date her? Because they lived right on top of each other, it would be awkward if they broke up. But what if they didn’t break up? What if they married? What would Hannah think?
Again, the play interrupted his thoughts.
“Someday, my dear little sister will, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; but I hope she will keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood, and gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago. I pray she will feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.”
The audience burst into applause. Ethan clapped along with the others, ruminating on Lewis Carrol’s words. Hannah would grow up. Of course, she would. And then Ethan would be alone—even more alone than he’d been after Allison died, because he’d no longer have Hannah to care for.
But what if he had Zoe to keep him company? She didn’t need him to care for her, just like he didn’t need her to care for him, but what if they cared for each other?
Ethan gathered up his jacket and tried to pretend he was interested in the encore chorus. The girls on the stage were adorable, but none of them held his interest like Zoe did.
CHAPTER 5
After the play, while Ethan, Courtney, and Zoe waited for the girls to reemerge, Zoe spotted the blond kid again. What was it about that guy?
“Those boys were hanging around the bakery with Laurel and Hannah the other day,” Zoe said. “I gave the girls some donuts and I think the donuts were passed on to those boys.”
“His name is Jon Frank,” Courtney whispered. “He’s every Canterbury girl’s dreamboat.”
Ethan’s lips tightened. “This is an all-girls school. There shouldn’t be any boys or dreamboats hanging around.”
“I don’t think we can exclude half the population to the play,” Zoe said, trying hard not to laugh.
“Not half the population,” Ethan ground out, “just all the males under the age of thirty.”
“How very ageist and sexist of you,” Courtney said.
Ethan folded his arms and lowered his eyebrows. “Are you really okay with Laurel being interested in boys?”
Courtney grinned. “I don’t think my opinion matters. Do you?”
“It should,” Ethan said grimly.
“Boys will be boys and girls will be girls,” Courtney said. “That’s what keeps things fun.”
“Fun?” Ethan echoed the word. “Having a preteen daughter surrounded by hormonally charged preteen boys does not meet my definition of fun.”
Courtney elbowed him. “Don’t you remember being young?”
“Yes,” Ethan said. “That’s part of the problem.
Fatigue weighed on Zoe’s shoulders. She’d watched Ethan napping during the play—his mouth open, his head back, his eyes closed. She wished she could be as relaxed. It didn’t matter how tired she was or how badly she needed sleep, she’d never been able to relax enough to sleep in a public place. She envied Ethan. He always seemed at home, even when he wasn’t.
“Mom!” Laurel came sprinting around the corner.
Hannah trotted after her. “Dad!”
Laurel launched herself at Courtney and nearly knocked her off her clunky but cute shoes. “Mitzi is having a sleepover.”
“Can I go?” Hannah asked Ethan.
The girls had changed their clothes, but they still had their makeup on—bright pink spots on their cheeks, heart-shaped red lips, and high-arching blackened brows.
Courtney and Ethan exchanged glances.
Courtney cocked an eyebrow. “I say yes!”
Ethan wavered, but Courtney pressed on. “Looks like we’re free tonight!” Courtney beamed at Ethan. “Let’s go out!”
Squealing, Laurel and Hannah jumped up and down, hugging each other.
“Come on, let’s go tell Mitzi!” Laurel said, grabbing Hannah’s hand and towing her down the hall.
Ethan met Zoe’s gaze. “Want to go out?”
Courtney dropped her arm around Zoe’s shoulders. “Of course, she does.”
“You don’t have to get up early tomorrow?” Ethan asked.
Did he want to her to go? She couldn’t read him.
“No!” Courtney spoke for her. “She hired a darling little thing, Bobbie James, who is going to work weekends for her.”
“Really? When did that start?”
“Tomorrow,” Zoe said, hedging. Although she’d hired Bobbie for this exact reason, she didn’t think Bobbie was ready to open the bakery on her own. Or if Zoe was ready to let her try. “So, I really...”
“Really should go to The Green Hog,” Courtney finished Zoe’s sentence.
Zoe had agreed to hire Bobbie because the girl desperately needed a job and Zoe really needed to get a life outside of the bakery. Going out with Ethan and Courtney could be fun, but would she be a third wheel? What if Ethan was interested in Courtney? Courtney was definitely interested in him...which could get awkward and tricky.
“Is that where we’re going?” Ethan asked.
“Two words,” Courtney said. “Karaoke and onions rings.”
Zoe thought about pointing out that those were technically four words, but since she was trying to be fun, she kept her mouth closed.
“I know those two things don’t sound like they should go
together, but they do,” Courtney said. “Even though the hog’s onions rings give you the worst breath, and there you are singing your lungs out, fanning everyone with your onion breath.”
“Do you eat onion rings?” Ethan asked Zoe.
“She does,” Courtney said. “Everyone does. Now, let’s go.” She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her keys. “I’ll drive.”
“I need to talk to Mitzi’s parents before I set Hannah loose,” Ethan said. “I’ll meet you there.”
Zoe watched Ethan navigate through the crowded auditorium until he found the set of parents surrounded by Hannah, Laurel, and a small group of girls.
Courtney nudged Zoe. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”
“I don’t know, Courtney,” Zoe said, following her sister outside. The cold air hit her lungs, making her feel alive and tingly, but apprehensive. “I’m not dressed for the bar, and you know I don’t do karaoke.”
Courtney rolled her eyes and tromped across the parking lot toward her Honda. After clicking the fob, she climbed in behind the steering wheel. Zoe got in the passenger side, debating whether she should have Courtney take her home. Knowing Courtney, she’d refuse. Of course, once they returned to Oak Hollow, Zoe could always walk home.
“Didn’t you hire Bobbie for this very reason?” Courtney pressed.
“Not for karaoke, no.”
Courtney jabbed the key into the ignition and the car roared to life. “You told me you wanted to have more fun. Well, this will be fun.”
“For who?” Zoe slid her sister a glance under her lashes. “Are you interested in Ethan?”
“Me? No.” Courtney pulled out of the lot and headed for the highway that would take them back into town. “But I think he’s cute. Don’t you?”
“You’re trying to fix me up with him?”
“Why not? You definitely have proximity going for you.”
“We’re too different. He’s an artist.”
“So are you. In your own way.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a follow-the-recipe sort of person. Ethan...is not.”
“So what? Maybe he’s not right for you, but you can still have a good time tonight. Or at least try.” Courtney flashed her a pleading look. “Promise me you’ll at least try.”