Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  He slid his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. “What have you found…”

  Lizzie beamed. “Oh Elliot, it’s perfect!” She motioned for him to join her. “Come look at this!”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You have an affinity for the abnormal, don’t you?”

  She scowled, still waving him over. “Stop it and come see the inside. It’s been restored.”

  He bent next to her to look in the window. “It’s not going to fit in my trunk, you know…”

  She slapped at his arm.

  He straightened and scanned her face for some explanation. “You really want this?”

  “More than anything.” She sighed. “You don’t know how long I’ve admired these. Restored models are almost impossible to find.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing, I guess,” he faltered. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

  She glowered at him a moment longer, then fished in her purse for her phone.

  Elliot stood waiting while she called the number on the windshield, watching the wind tug at her skirt and toss her curls. Why was he shocked by anything this woman did? She’d been a surprise from the moment he’d first seen her; you’d think he’d learn.

  He cocked his head to one side. She was crafty, creative, and sweet... A gust of wind pushed Lizzie’s skirt in the air, causing Elliot’s pulse to quicken. Add sexy to the list.

  The girl might be determined to keep her distance, but a few nights ago she’d been hotter than a two-dollar pistol. He hadn’t been surprised when she’d invited him in, taking his hand to lead him up the steps to her room. He had to admit that he’d been hoping, maybe even pushing, for that outcome. He’d not been able to keep his hands off her all afternoon.

  Never before had he met a woman who was such an engaging mix of homespun and earthy, sexy yet withdrawn, unwavering and yet vulnerable. She might be surprising on many levels, but her responses to his touch were obvious enough. Too bad she was so sure he wasn’t the type of man she wanted.

  Remembering her in his arms all silky and warm, he resolved to change her mind.

  Snorting, he kicked the bus tire. When he’d left D.C. to visit Justin a week ago, he’d never dreamed of the turn of events the trip would offer. “Just when you think your life is on track…” he mused. A wrinkle marred his forehead. What would his parents think of Lizzie?

  Glancing up, he noted the sun setting over the forested hills. Things had been pretty well situated in his life; maybe it was time for a major shake-up. Rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, he considered the business plans he and Justin had been making. He’d need to go home soon and confront his father, and the thought was less than pleasant…

  Chapter Seventeen

  “…and he’s such a fine young man, tall and smart, and so charming… I can’t wait to introduce him to the ladies aid society.”

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lizzie leaned her elbow on the nail cart and tried hard to ignore her mother.

  “Everyone will be so impressed,” the older woman continued, waving one hand in excitement, causing the teacup balanced on her knee to rattle. “I’ll have to contact MaryAnn right away to see if there are any houses for sale in her neighborhood. It’s the perfect location for newlyweds.”

  Lizzie glanced up at her customer, Marge, chagrined. After taking a deep breath, her teeth clenched, she attempted to slow her mother’s diatribe. “Mother, he’s not going to Boston, and we are not getting married.”

  Beatrice shifted on the sofa. “Well, you can’t stay here and be a servant, Elizabeth. I’m serious, how much do you make slaving away at this place? Minimum wage?”

  Marge, with her fingernails under the dryer, tossed a nasty glare toward the older woman. “I know I work for the satisfaction.” She glanced toward Lizzie in support. “Some people may think waiting tables at a diner is demeaning, but I enjoy seeing my friends and neighbors, making their day a little nicer.” She tossed her head in indignation, her bouffant hair bobbing. “Everything in this world isn’t about money…”

  Beatrice sniffed and sipped from her teacup, clearly not in agreement.

  “Sorry, Marge,” Lizzie muttered as she collected her tools and headed across the room to clean them.

  Beatrice cleared her throat. “I don’t see why you want to work so hard, you have the man wrapped around your finger. Concentrate on him and your future is settled.”

  Lizzie spun from the sink. “Mother! My future is settled without Elliot. I have a house and a farm and a job…” She sighed and turned back to the sink. “Never mind.”

  Placing her teacup on the ottoman, Beatrice sniffed with indignation. “I just don’t want you wasting your best chance yet with a man of influence.”

  “I’m not wasting anything, Mother, please stop,” Lizzie muttered as she scrubbed her tools.

  The nail dryer clicked off and Marge stood, checking her nails to be sure they were dry. “I’ll be getting back to the diner now, Lizzie. Come by soon for lunch.” She tossed a glare toward the older woman on the sofa and lifted her hand to whisper. “Alone.” Then, with a smile for her friend, she headed for the door.

  When the door clicked shut behind Marge, Lizzie propped her fists on her hips, taking in her mother, who was now casually flipping through a magazine. “How long are you planning to stay and harass me, Mother?”

  Seemingly shocked, Beatrice looked up, her eyebrows raised as she slapped the magazine onto the couch. “Well I never…”

  “Never what?” Lizzie snapped. “Heard me ask you a straight question? Well, that’s how it is now.”

  Beatrice stood, her palms on her chest, as if she were wounded. “I don’t understand what has turned you into such a nasty-mouthed thing. I worked so hard to teach you good manners.”

  “I do have good manners,” Lizzie replied, her anger building. “You’ve been here all day bothering my customers, chasing them away one by one, and I’ve managed to keep my cool. Why do you have to be so condescending and mean?”

  Beatrice’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. Recovering, she shook her finger at Lizzie. “It’s a good thing I came here when I did. These people are ruining you. Someone needs to save you.”

  Lizzie took two steps forward, her expression dark. “I do not need to be saved! And I assure you, Mother, whatever it is you want me to do, I will do exactly the opposite!”

  Beatrice snorted as she bent to collect her jacket and purse from the end of the sofa. “Argue all you want, but it’s obvious to everyone with eyes in their head that you are floundering.”

  “Mother,” Lizzie started, her hands now clenched into balls at her sides. “Go home.”

  Beatrice crossed the room to Lizzie, the water still running in the sink, forgotten. Stopping a foot in front of her daughter, she frowned and cocked one eyebrow, speaking slow and low. “I will not leave this Godforsaken place without you.”

  Pushed beyond all reason, Lizzie clamped her eyes closed and ground her teeth.

  Beatrice watched Lizzie from the corner of her eye. “I’m not going to be swayed, Elizabeth. You’re no match for me and you know it.”

  Lizzie’s eyes popped open. “You just try it, Mother!” she cried, flinging her arms out in frustration. “You’ll have to take me home tied and gagged. I moved to Smithville to get away from you!”

  The color drained from the older woman’s face. Without another word she turned on her heel and stomped from the spa, slamming the door with a resounding bang.

  Lizzie dropped onto the end of the sofa, her head in her hand. What was she going to do? Her mother was obviously here for the long haul, completely ruining her carefully created home. She felt a little bit bad for hurting her mother’s feelings, but she was not going to be hounded any longer, and she was not going back to Boston. Her mother would have to face that fact, no matter what it took. T
his was war.

  * * *

  The tow truck pulled up next to the barn, sending Lucky into a fit of barking. Lizzie came from the barn and waved at the dog distractedly, far too excited to reprimand her. Lizzie circled the end of the truck, checking for any damage the little bus might have sustained on the short trip.

  The driver dropped from the cab, clipboard in hand and waited while Lizzie signed. Handing her a copy of the paperwork, he tossed the clipboard back into the truck and got to work lowering the ramp back to unload the bus.

  Once all four wheels were on the ground, Lizzie caressed her hand along the side mirror. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose,” the driver grunted, bending to unhook the last chain.

  “It’s been restored so beautifully,” she continued, peering in the side window.

  Lily and Ingrid wandered to the corral fence, curious about the commotion. Lucky finally quieted and settled for running from one end of the corral to the other, vigilant in her protection of the alpacas.

  Lizzie tugged open the driver door of the VW and climbed into the seat, lovingly touching all the knobs and gadgets. When the driver had his rig ready to leave, she climbed out to thank him, take the keys, and offer a wave as he drove away.

  Quiet settled over the yard, leaving Lizzie and her pets to stand staring at the little bus.

  “Don’t you just love it?” she asked, glancing to Ingrid.

  The alpaca’s head tipped to one side, her Mohawk of fleece flopping, as if she were considering the vehicle. Lucky dropped to her haunches next to Lizzie, tired from guard duty, her tongue lolling as she panted.

  Finally, Lizzie moved forward, as if in a dream, and climbed in to start the bus. It purred to life, the engine sputtering with its distinctive VW rumbling hum. The sound was music to her ears. A huge smile lit her face as she put the bus in drive to circle around the yard. Pulling to a stop, she climbed out and went around to open the side doors and inspect every inch of the back of the bus. Two reupholstered bench seats faced each other across the fold-down table, complete with a chrome-wrapped edge. The wood paneling lining the interior and ceiling were intact and polished to a shine. Even the latch and crank windows were in perfect working order. She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect vehicle.

  Lucky launched into another fit of barking, so Lizzie climbed out of the bus to shade her eyes with one hand. A long dark car came over the crest of the hill, causing her heart to drop to her feet. Within seconds, however, she was surprised to see that her father was driving the car, not her mother. Relieved but concerned, Lizzie wondered what on earth could cause her father to drive out alone -- the fact that she’d been horrible to her mother the night before, perhaps? With a sigh she waited for her father to climb from the car.

  Harold closed the car door, then stood for a moment with his mitt of a hand on the car roof, unsure how to approach his daughter. Morning sun gleamed off his bald head and his giant mustache twitched. Lucky ran to his side as he bent to pat the old dog on the head, then finally crossed the yard to stop next to the VW bus.

  Lizzie nodded once. “Daddy.”

  Tossing her a quick glance and a nod in return, his attention quickly returned to the bus. “What have you got here?”

  “It’s my bus, I bought it yesterday.”

  Harold circled the bus, his eyes bright with humor or—Lizzie wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but he seemed pleased as well as surprised.

  “What made you decide to buy this?” he asked, running his hand across the logo on the front of the bus.

  Lizzie shrugged. “I’ve always wanted one. Not sure why.”

  Harold chuckled. “It’s in your blood, girl.”

  “What does that mean?” Lizzie asked, thrown by her father’s response.

  Opening the driver door to lean in, Harold beeped the horn with a grin. “I mean it’s no big mystery.”

  “What are you talking about, Daddy? Where’s Mother?”

  Harold realized that his daughter had no patience for him, so he backed out of the bus to frown at the dirt, his hands going to his pockets. “Your mother is…” He glanced up. “Upset this morning. Thought I’d drive out and chat with you.”

  Lizzie sighed heavily. “Daddy, she was horrible. You can’t imagine how she—”

  Raising one hand, he stopped her. “Oh, yes I can.”

  Jarred to a stop, Lizzie realized that of course he knew. He’d always known. “How do you stand her, Daddy? She drives me insane!”

  “Now, now, don’t speak ill of your mother…”

  Contrite, Lizzie halted her tirade, but anger boiled below the surface. How could he stand by, year after year, watching her mother torment her?

  Harold gazed across the yard into the forest, watching as leaves fell from the trees like rain. “You’ve never understood your mother, I’m afraid.” He turned back, his eyes bright with emotion. “I love you both so much.”

  Feeling as if she were being broken in two, Lizzie threw her hands in the air. “Explain it to me, Daddy! Tell me why she’s so hard on me, why she doesn’t care about what I want or need. How you can just…”

  Rubbing his hands across his face, Harold hesitated, kicking at the dirt. “You should have seen her when we met,” he began. “She was so beautiful, so…sad. Desperate, really.”

  Taken aback, Lizzie stared. “Mother, desperate?”

  “This bus here—” He circled the bus to open the side doors. “This is your history, Lizzie.”

  “I’m confused,” she huffed, following him, gesturing with her hands. “What are you talking about?”

  “I had one just like this when I met your mother. Well, it was orange, not pink…”

  Silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the breeze in the trees. Lizzie’s mouth hung slack. Finally, she rallied with a shake of her head. “You never told me that.”

  He reached out to touch the bench seat of the bus. “I don’t suppose you remember it. We sold it when you were two.”

  “I rode in a bus like this?” she gasped. “When I was a baby?”

  “It wasn’t this nice,” Harold acknowledged. “But yes. It didn’t run half the time. We sold it to a collector for the down payment on the house.”

  Lizzie finally understood her fascination with the bus and others like it.

  “About killed me to sell it,” Harold continued. “But you needed a house and a safe, dependable vehicle.”

  Lizzie’s heart sank. “Don’t tell me I ruined your life too…” she muttered, deflated and hurt. Lucky trotted to her side and plopped down to sit on her dusty boot, her shaggy chin tilted up to gaze at Lizzie with a whine.

  His head snapped up. “Don’t even say such a thing, young lady. You know I adore you.”

  Years of ache squeezed at Lizzie’s heart. “Do you, Daddy? Do you really?”

  With a huff, the man crossed the few steps separating them and placed his arm around her shoulders to give her an awkward squeeze. “Sweetheart, I’ve loved you since the moment I set eyes on you, I’ve just never known quite what to say. Not my forte, you know—emotions and all that.”

  Nodding miserably, Lizzie sniffed. “I know…”

  To lighten the mood, Harold changed the subject. “I’ve never told you about my gypsy past with the VW, have I?”

  Lizzie’s head came up, her eyes bright with not only emotion, but also curiosity. She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “No. Gypsy past?”

  Leading her toward the house, Harold continued. “Back in college I was into drama, traveled with an acting troupe during summer breaks.”

  Grinding to a halt, she stared at her father as if he were a stranger. “You? No way…”

  The man chuckled and nudged her forward. “It’s true. Come on now, let’s get you out of these smelly coveralls. You can make me some of that magic coffee of yours.”

  Leaning into her father’s side as they crossed the yard, Lizzie reveled in her father’s warmth, the feeling unfamilia
r but welcome.

  * * *

  Bells jangled over the door of the diner, and Elliot paused to let Lizzie go through first. The smell of floral soap rose from her skin and he inhaled it deeply. Other than the trip to Pittsburgh, they hadn’t had much time to be together since Lizzie’s parents had arrived, and he missed being close to her, touching her. They hadn’t shared another night together. The thought of her parents dropping in was enough of a deterrent, not to mention Lizzie’s frazzled mental state.

  The diner was empty but for one other couple, and the jukebox in the corner pumped out an Elvis song. Marge waved from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere, folks, I’ll be right over.”

  Elliot nodded and guided Lizzie to a red vinyl and chrome booth along the wall.

  Lizzie plopped her oversized purse on the bench seat as she slid in to sit. “My dad came by this morning.” she mentioned offhandedly as she arranged her skirt.

  His eyebrows up, Elliot folded himself into the booth seat. “How did that go?”

  She shrugged. “I blew up at my mom last night. I just couldn’t take her crap one more minute. He came out to try and make peace.”

  Elliot waited to hear what had happened.

  “How are you two today?” Marge interrupted, her expression full of curiosity as she slapped two plastic menus on the table.

  “We’re well, thank you,” Elliot said.

  Lizzie shrunk in her skin, embarrassed. “Sorry about last night.”

  Marge shrugged. “Don’t give it another thought. You two need a few minutes to look over the menu?”

  The couple agreed, each reaching for a menu.

  “Okay, I’ll bring you out some drinks. Water? Soda? Coffee?”

  Lizzie relaxed visibly. “Water is fine with me, thanks.”

  “Me as well,” said Elliot.

  With a nod of her bouffant, Marge turned and headed across the café, her tennis shoes squeaking on the black-and-white checkerboard floor.

  Watching her walk away, Elliot frowned. “What happened? Why did you apologize?”