Would a manager handle the paperwork? True, she hated bookkeeping, but how would she know if they were on track financially if she didn’t see the flow of money?
A cleaning crew would be helpful, maybe she could deal with that. But they would have to use the same laundry room. Would that person be handling Justin’s underwear so they could put sheets in the dryer? He’d hate that!
“You seem tired and stressed,” Justin said, loading stew onto his spoon, “and Bella needs lots of attention.”
Tara watched dispassionately as he took another bite. It was so easy for him to calmly state her inadequacies. Now she felt like a solid failure as a mother as well. She knew Bella deserved a calm, happy mom. And Justin deserved a wife who wasn’t a moody, exhausted mess. “I’m a wreck,” she admitted.
“You do great, don’t say that,” he brushed off the comment. Then his thoughts wandered again. “We always figured we’d have our kids close together. Have you considered what will happen when we have another baby?”
Tara’s heart sank and lodged firmly in her stomach. Yes, of course she’d considered having another baby, but the thought of the morning sickness, the swollen figure, the fatigue…
Any time that she’d hoped to find with Justin, any connection they could have regained, would be completely lost. And if she couldn’t manage a career now, she’d certainly never be able to manage with another baby. Was she ready to let her career go completely? Tears stung at the back of her eyes.
“My business is doing well, so you don’t have to work.” Justin added, hoping to ease her unhappiness.
But those were exactly the words she didn’t want to hear. She’d loved her businesses back in the day. They had challenged and fulfilled her -- giving her a creative outlet.
The thought of being pregnant again filled her with dismay. On the other hand, he really had been sweet while she was carrying Bella. His amazement and joy when her belly would jump was adorable, and his shameless joy when Bella was born had been so special.
Where had all the good things gone? Where had they gone wrong? They’d done all the right things, worked to build a future, created a family. Had she been too engrossed in work? “My business is doing well too,” she said sadly, knowing that it was the motherhood and family that had been taking the back seat.
Silence once again filled the room.
“Done!” Bella said, showing her empty bowl. “More?”
Justin grinned lovingly at Bella. “Of course, baby.”
Bella bounced in her seat as she watched her father dish up more stew.
Tara remained silent, her heart swelling with an unnamed emotion as she watched the interchange between Bella and Justin. Her daughter was so blessed to have a father like Justin. The bond between them seemed even more remarkable since she’d never had a father figure to speak of. She’d had no way of knowing what a father’s love even looked like. It was beautiful and special. Something to guard and cherish.
She didn’t know how she would ever be able to turn over the reins of the Inn, but she would do it. It was clear now that hiring a manager was inevitable. Family came first.
* * *
Morning sun fell across the kitchen island where Winnie and Isabelle sat.
“Glue” Bella demanded, reaching for the bottle.
“Let Nana help you,” Winnie instructed, taking the glue bottle from Bella’s chubby fingers. She dotted glue on the paper for the eyes of Bella’s lion.
Bella grabbed up the package of plastic craft eyes and inspected them thoroughly, then dumped the lot onto the counter. “Boobly eyes,” she said, picking one to show Winnie.
“They are, aren’t they,” Winnie chuckled.
Bella placed an eye on each glue dot, then pushed away from the counter. “Elmo,” she said.
Winnie lifted the baby down, then followed her into the sitting room. Bella curled up on the well-worn sofa and tugged her favorite throw blanket up to one cheek.
As Winnie waited for the TV to come on, she couldn’t help but admire the beautiful child. Knowing Bella felt at home with her was a gift, and one she hadn’t expected. Life had a way of delivering unexpected pleasures. Things popped up to remind one of their blessings each and every day. The letter tucked into her apron pocket came to mind. Was it a reminder of blessings or a reminder of pain? It had certainly taken her back, after all this time.
Oh, those university days. Dorm life had been a revelation. So many new experiences and ideas that came with being away from home. No one had approved or disapproved of how she dressed or what she ate. She’d listened to the radio station of choice and watched whatever she wanted on television.
She used the remote to select the correct station for Bella, while remembering that she’d especially liked gathering around the television in the student lounge with her friends. What’s My Line had been a favorite show.
“I think number two is the ballerina,” Claudia had insisted one night, because she always picked contestant number two.
“She can’t be,” Winnie disagreed. “She didn’t know what height the bar was, remember?”
“I think she was faking it.” Claudia insisted.
“They have to tell the truth,” another student pointed out.
“Shhh,” Winnie interrupted, “I can’t hear.”
All eyes focused back on the television as contestant number one stood to reveal that she was indeed the ballerina.
Claudia fell back on the sofa and covered her face with her hands. “Not number one! She has a big nose!”
Winnie laughed. “And you can’t be a ballerina with a big nose?”
“It could affect her balance,” a fellow student joked.
All the girls laughed.
Claudia stood and stretched. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”
“I have 30 pages to read,” Winnie sighed, straightening the sofa cushions.
“Yeah, I have calculous homework,” someone else agreed.
Claudia frowned. “You two are so stuffy,” she complained. “You’re only young once and you want to waste it with your nose in a book?”
The other students trailed out of the lounge, and Winnie clicked off the television. “We did come here to go to school.”
Claudia waved her off. “Oh, come on, you could pass these classes with your eyes closed. I’m going over to the boys’ dorm.”
Checking her watch, Winnie’s forehead crinkled. “It’s almost curfew, you’ll get caught. Besides, I don’t think Roy likes you hanging out over there.”
“You’ll get caught,” Claudia mocked in a stuffy voice. “Winnie, Roy is not my boss.”
“Don’t call me that,” Winnie hissed behind her hand. “You know I hate that; it’s a grandma name.”
“Well, you act like a grandma,” Claudia argued. “Seriously, come with me.”
Winnie shook her head. “Not tonight.”
“Fine, but don’t blame me when you can’t get a date.” Claudia snapped, then marched from the room, leaving Winnie alone.
It was true that she may not have met many boys, but she had her eye on a bigger fish. The assistant in her philosophy class was absolutely dreamy, and Mister Kinkade was no boy. He was probably 24 or 25 and so smart. His lecture the day before had been fascinating. He knew more about current affairs than anyone she’d ever met.
With a wistful sigh, Winnie wandered toward the door, her hand pausing on the light switch. What would she do if she had to choose between homework and talking to Thomas Kinkade? She grinned and flipped off the light. No question, the homework would have to wait. Luckily, philosophy class was five days a week. All the more time to stare at Thomas and come up with something intelligent and charming to say to him.
Maybe “excuse me, could I borrow a pencil?” She shook her head. No, that made her look unprepared.
How about “Hi, what are your office hours?” No, no, no, that was more Claudia’s style.
Lost in thought, she headed up the stairs to her room. Would
she even be able to string two coherent words together, if she ever got the chance to speak to the man? She’d probably stand there like a scarecrow, only able to drool. Then again, maybe she’d come up with something witty. She better be ready when the time came though, because two weeks of staring at him had given her ample time to decide that she was definitely going to approach him.
* * *
The professor droned on, but Winnie’s attention was elsewhere. Who could blame her with Thomas at the front of the room? He was so handsome, so poised in that tweed sport coat he wore over a sweater vest, with a stiff white shirt and tie. His wavy hair was a bit too long to be conventional, and she wondered if the University harped at him to get it cut. He had a charm about him and a knockout grin; he had a sexy kind of swagger, like Ryan O’Neal. It was simply impossible for a woman to look at Thomas Kinkade yet focus on the dull, repetitive words of the balding, rumpled, professor.
“The frightening thing,” the old professor droned on, “is that we have no way of knowing how space travel will affect the population. Aside from the environmental implications of bringing back dangerous spores from outer space, what emotional and psychological ramifications will we face? We are forcing humankind to accept an impossible dream, an un-natural desire! Rarely does this go without consequence.”
Unnatural desire? It was science and exploration, like humans had been doing for eons. Stifling a sigh, she watched Thomas for his reaction. If the look on his face was any indication, he didn’t agree with the professor.
Why did people live in fear of scientific advancement? Undoubtedly, they’d raged about the dangers of steam engines and trains, then automobiles. And she was sure there had been an uproar about planes too. Now men are going into space, and yet fear of the unknown still held folks back.
Surveyor 5 had landed on the moon recently, and no one had imploded. That mission had tested the moon’s surface in preparation for men to walk there, and by the end of the month they’d test the first huge, Saturn 5 rocket. Exploration and advancement were inevitable. Shouldn’t university classes teach more about the opportunity that technology brings, rather than fear and clinging to past superstition?
The bell rang and the class shuffled to life. Winnie took her time and collected her books and notes with care. If she timed it right, she would be the last one out, and maybe, just maybe, she could find something clever to say to Thomas.
As she made her way down the riser steps, the man of her dreams took up his place at the door, collecting papers from the students as they filed out. This was her chance. Glancing up through her lashes, she placed her paper on the stack in Thomas’s hands.
He smiled.
Her shoulders straightened, she met his eye, and tossed her hair back. “Do you share Professor Green’s opinion about space travel?” She asked, figuring a question about the class was her best bet to get an answer. That was his job.
One brow rose, and he glanced toward the professor. Seeing that the old man was busy at his desk, he shook his head. “As a matter of fact, I do not.”
Relieved and pleased with both his open demeanor and his answer, she smiled. “I’m curious where your thoughts differ.”
“It’s Wynona, right?”
She bobbed her head in a nod.
With one more glance toward the professor, he motioned for her to follow him into the hallway. “I’m almost finished working for today. I just have to put this stuff in my office. Want to discuss this over coffee?”
This was the moment she’d been dreaming of, but coffee? Like her mother drank? “Where would we get coffee?”
He laughed a ringing joyful laugh. “At the coffee house, of course.”
She had no idea what a coffee house was, but she wasn’t about to admit it, so she agreed.
“Cool! So, the coffee shop on the corner.” He motioned with one hand. “Let’s meet in, say, five minutes?”
Her brain engaged. “I’ll be there.”
Chapter Four
Tara sat at the spa’s front desk. Lizzie managed the spa more than efficiently, but Tara had stubbornly hung onto doing the books because the spa was part of the Inn. Even though the spa had been part of the original plans, it had taken Justin an extra year to get it built. The opening had been a big deal and the ladies in town used it as a gathering place. She felt connected to the spa on so many levels, and not just because of finances. Her friends were here.
The large main lobby hummed with comfortable chatter. The room was decorated in cottage style and looked more like the living room of an expensive lake house than it did a spa. The large sectional sofa dominated the space, and a pot belly stove on one corner offered warmth on cold days.
Gloria, the receptionist, finished folding towels in the back room and pulled out the broom to sweep up while Lizzie spoke with the last few customers who lagged to gossip. Tara tapped her pencil on the desktop, trying to ignore the hubbub and chatter and to concentrate on the bookkeeping software. But it didn’t matter, it was no good. She couldn’t focus. Her thoughts kept straying back to Justin’s words the night before. She’d agreed to run the Inn as long as it didn’t interfere with being a mother. Well, the Inn and the spa didn’t interfere, not really -- they dominated. The decision was made; she’d have to give it up.
One of the women hooted with laughter and Tara dropped her pencil. She closed the spreadsheet and shoved her laptop into her bag. She may as well go pick up Bella -- she wasn’t doing any good here.
“Are you leaving?” Lizzie asked, looking up as she cleaned and organized the nail cart.
“Yeah,” Tara said. “I need to pick up Bella.”
“Well, dang, I was hoping we could talk about the wedding.”
An audible gasp rose from the women in the room, and their faces lit up with anticipation. “Oh, we have to talk about the wedding,” and “You can’t leave now, Tara!”
She glanced among the group, taking in Becky, the clerk and manager of her shabby-chic boutique and Marge, the waitress at the diner. Drawn in by the excitement, Tara relented and joined the local women on the sofa. “Lizzie, you know I have no willpower when it comes to planning weddings,” she bemoaned. “Have you decided on a venue?
All eyes turned to Lizzie.
“Well,” Lizzie began, her face glowing with happiness as she pushed the nail cart against the wall for the night. “I was thinking, if it’s okay with you that is, about having the wedding here at the Inn, in the barn theater.”
A cacophony of voices babbled enthusiastically over the announcement, drowning out all else. “That would be perfect!” and “What a lovely idea!” were a few of the comments.
Marge stood and raised her hands to get everyone’s attention, then waited for quiet. “I think that’s a very sensible plan, Lizzie. Everyone knows this place. I once went to a wedding in England…” the old waitress waited for that information to sink in before continuing, “…where the limos took everyone to the wrong chapel!”
“The wrong chapel?” the group howled, causing another uproar.
“It’s the truth!” Marge nodded to assure the ladies, and her long-standing bouffant hairdo bobbed with her. “There’s no chance of that happening at the theater.”
Gloria piped up next, leaning the forgotten broom against the wall. “I was at a wedding once where all the toilets overflowed and flooded the reception. That would never happen here either!”
“Oh no! Never!” cried the group of women.
Lizzie rolled her eyes and tucked a black springy curl behind her ear. “Ladies! Come on, ladies, I don’t need horror stories, I’m worried enough about my wedding day as it is!”
The group quieted, murmuring amongst themselves about chapels and floods.
“The Inn would love to host your wedding!” Tara said to Lizzie over the din. She hoped she looked thrilled, but her heart was sinking. It was a nail in the coffin of her career. If she couldn’t manage everything now, how would she ever get through hosting a wedding?
* * *
Struggling to remain calm about her upcoming coffee date, Winnie leaned closer to the student’s bathroom mirror to inspect her mascara. Then with sweaty palms, she stepped back to smooth her dress. Mother would have a conniption if she saw what she and Claudia had done to the length of her skirts.
Then again, her mother had taught her to sew, so in a way, it was her own fault, right?
Next year it may not matter anyway, because the university was actually considering letting the girls wear pants to class. Imagine that, not having to worry about freezing half to death all winter! It was about time women were allowed to dress for the weather. Her mother would likely suggest a long skirt to keep warm, but pants would be so much more practical. And fashionable! Those bell-bottom, hip-hugger jeans the girls wore around the dorm were so flattering. Of course, the university would never allow jeans in class, but slacks would be a huge step forward. Thank goodness for the women’s movement!
She dug through her purse and pulled out lipstick, then carefully applied the nude, pink color to her lips. Back home everyone still used bright red lipstick and made up their eyes. But here the girls were up to date with the natural look.
She turned sideways, critical of her profile. Claudia said everyone gained ten pounds when they went off to college. Would Thomas think she looked good? He saw hundreds of beautiful girls every day, could she compete?
She pulled a brush through her long, silky hair, and then stuffed it back in her purse, confident she looked her best. No one would ever know that just a few weeks ago, she’d been such country hick. Collecting her purse and her books, she headed to the coffee house, whatever that was.
* * *
Thomas’s eyes lit up as Winnie approached. He stood from the table in the sidewalk café and came around to pull out her chair.
Hometown Series Box Set Page 124
