by Hope Ramsay
But she wouldn’t even have to call Patsy because the chairwoman of the Altar Guild was standing in the parking lot watching with avid attention as the scene played out.
“I’ve got to go…bake some brownies,” Ashley said trying not to look back at the preacher or ahead at her friend.
“Ashley, I know those were your brownies.”
She turned. “What?”
“You should know that Lia feels terrible about what—”
Something snapped. Did he think she was ticked off about the brownies? Really? She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “I don’t give a fig about the stupid brownies. But I’m telling you, Reverend St. Pierre, if Jesus really wanted to help that grieving widow in today’s Bible reading, maybe he should have restored her dead husband to her, as well as her dead son.” Her voice wavered and the tears filled her eyes.
She turned and fled, forgetting about Patsy Bauman, who’d watched the whole encounter.
Chapter Fifteen
The little hairs on the back of Lia’s neck stood on end the moment Noah strolled through the clinic’s door.
It was not yet eight o’clock, but Lia had been there for an hour, taking Prince for a walk, making coffee, and getting things ready for the day. She sat at her desk, hiding behind her computer glasses and sipping coffee from her favorite mug, the one with the USS George H. W. Bush carrier group logo.
Noah crossed the waiting room and headed for the coffeemaker, which sat on a worktable in the area behind the reception desk. Lia’s nipples tightened the minute he came within three feet of her.
She had the hots for him. Bad.
She listened to him pour a cup of coffee as she pretended to look at her computer screen. Was he going to say anything? She waited, growing increasingly hot and sweaty with the tension.
“You’ve become quite the talk of the town,” he finally said in a voice that sounded kind of displeased.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t,” she said without turning around. She didn’t want to look him in the eye. He might see the fire he’d started down deep in her core. At the same time, she didn’t want to hide behind the whole Micah-in-the-closet misunderstanding.
“Don’t what?” he said. “Mention the fact that your escapade with the preacher has jumped from the Episcopalian grapevine to the Methodist phone tree? You are practically famous now.”
She was not going to rise to this bait, so she put on her best business voice. “I put the résumés of the vet tech candidates on your desk. You’ve got interviews at ten, eleven, one, and two o’clock. The first patient is due here at nine. It’s a new kitten visit.”
“Okay.”
She waited for him to say something else. But he didn’t. Instead he took his coffee down the hall to his office. And he hid out back there for much of the day when he wasn’t seeing patients.
He’d just given her the cold shoulder. But was it because of the kiss they’d shared on the boardwalk on Saturday or the stupid gossip running rampant through town? Or maybe both?
Maybe she should go back to his office and tell him how much she’d enjoyed his kiss. She could explain about what happened with Micah.
Or maybe she should keep her mouth shut. After all, Noah wasn’t sticking around and she didn’t want to get involved with someone who was going to leave Magnolia Harbor. She was tired of people coming and going in her life. She wanted some permanency.
On the other hand, she wouldn’t mind being kissed like that again.
This circular argument occupied her thoughts for most of the day. By three o’clock in the afternoon, after the vet tech interviews and the last appointment, she was utterly exhausted by it. So she asked Noah if she could take the rest of the day off. He had no objections. She got the feeling he was relieved when she left.
She took a deep breath of ocean breeze as she left the clinic. She needed some distance to put her emotions in perspective. Was he just not that into her? Was she just not quite in his league, with her ordinary looks and standard-issue wardrobe? Maybe it was time to stop putting her hair up in a regulation navy bun.
Or maybe she should stop thinking about Noah Cuthbert and start thinking about Kate Joyner, whose name now topped the list on her pink Post-it Note. She needed to garner more information, and what better place to start than at Daffy Down Dilly, Kerri Eaton’s gift shop on Harbor Drive? Kerri had been the only other member of the softball team who’d noticed Bud Joyner’s careless cruelty on Saturday.
But as she approached the shop’s entrance on Monday afternoon, she found herself standing out front, staring up at an adorable sundress in the front window. It had a daffodil motif along the hemline and it was flirty and fun…and unlike anything in Lia’s wardrobe. She wondered what it might feel like to wear something like that. In her memory, she had never actually owned a sundress. She’d mostly worn Salvation Army cast-offs as a kid, and uniforms as an adult.
A strange and heretofore unknown female yearning filled her chest. Did she dare? No. That’s not what she’d come here for.
She went into the shop, which smelled of floral soaps, and proceeded to browse as if she were actually shopping for something more than information. Kerri had a cute and eclectic merchandise assortment; many of the items were adorned with daffodils. In the back, the store had racks of sundresses, bathing suits, and beach cover-ups that were a little pricey but very unique.
The shop wasn’t crowded this time of day. Perfect for a conversation. Kerri was minding the counter, and gave Lia a big smile. “Hey, Lia. What can I do for you today?”
Kerri was a beautiful, thirty-something woman with coffee-colored skin and shoulder-length hair that had been straightened into a pageboy. She wore one of her daffodil motif sundresses accessorized with a pair of dangly silver earrings and a vintage-look necklace. The proprietor of Daffy Down Dilly had that well-curated look from her makeup and wardrobe right down to her nail color. She might not be able to catch a fly ball, but she knew how to dress to impress.
Instead of jumping right in and asking her about Bud Joyner, Lia said, “I saw the sundress in the window. It’s really cute and…“ Her face got unbearably hot. She had never been a girlie girl and didn’t really enjoy shopping all that much. Maybe she should have just come right to the point about Bud.
Kerri seemed oblivious to her discomfort. Or maybe she saw right through Lia and just had mad skills when it came to selling beauty to unsure women. In any event, Kerri’s smile widened. “You’d look great in that one with your olive skin color.”
“You think?”
“Honey,” Kerri said, stepping from behind the counter, “You’d look good in almost anything.”
“I would?”
She laughed and strolled back toward the racks of dresses. “You would. Come on, let’s find one for you. Do you have a hot date coming up?”
“No.”
Kerri snorted a laugh. “I’ve been hearing all sorts of gossip about you.”
“None of it’s true.”
“No? Then why are you in here looking like a woman in need of a pretty new dress?”
“It’s complicated.” Damn, was she that easy to read?
“Complicated how?” Kerri asked.
“There might be someone I want to impress, but not who you think. And besides, I’m clueless about civilian dress codes. I mean, I have relied on my uniform for years.”
“Well, we need to fix that.” Kerri gave her a sly look out of the corner of her dark eyes as she stepped up to the rack and began searching through the dresses. “So who is it exactly that you want to impress?”
Crap. She’d said too much. She had to think fast. “Well, to be honest, I guess I need to impress the Heavenly Rest Altar Guild.”
“You got that right, honey. So nothing too sexy then.”
“Uh…”
Kerri stopped browsing the dresses and stared with a lifted eyebrow. “You want sexy?”
Yes, she did in the worst way, but she wasn’t about to
admit to having a foolish and impossible crush on Noah Cuthbert. So she shook her head. “No, I guess not.”
Kerri pulled a few dresses from the rack and escorted Lia to the dressing room, where she stood outside the curtained cubicle, ready to pass judgment on each one.
The first one Lia tried—with a border of daffodils along the hemline—didn’t fit her small proportions.
“No, you’re too tiny for a border like that,” Kerri said, shaking her head. “Here, try this one.”
The second one was a black halter dress with a dramatic daffodil print. It had a snug bodice and a gathered skirt. The moment Lia put it on she fell in love with it. Somehow that halter neckline made her shoulders seem less broad. And the dress accentuated her tiny waistline.
“Wow,” she whispered as she looked at herself in the mirror. “I almost look cute.”
“What? You are cute. Girlfriend, you are more than cute. Now we just need to get rid of that old-maid hairdo and accessorize.” Kerri ran off and returned a few moments later with necklaces and hair clips, all of them daffodil themed.
She went to work and transformed Lia into a semblance of a pretty woman. Not that she was anything to write home about, but Kerri had accentuated all Lia’s positives.
The price tag for all of it was on the exorbitant side, but Lia had some savings, was living rent-free for the moment, and payday would be in several days. She had enough in the bank to cover it.
She changed back into her boring khakis and gray tank top and met Kerri at the checkout counter. She’d spent a ton of money. Now it was time to ask a few pointed questions.
“So, I was wondering if you might be interested in helping me organize a couple more softball practice sessions before the game on Thursday,” Lia said.
Kerrie cocked her head. “Honey, I could sure use some practice. I’ve got this feeling I’m going to make a fool of myself on Thursday. You and Abby are just about the only ones on the team who know what they’re doing. If you call a practice, I’ll be there.”
“You want to practice?”
She gave Lia a sly smile. “Well, I admit I’m afraid of breaking my nails, but I don’t want to look like an idiot, you know? And…” Her voice trailed off.
“And you want to impress Colton St. Pierre?”
She rolled her eyes. “That man is hot. And he’s successful, in the best way possible.”
“What way is that?”
“He’s completely self-made. What woman wouldn’t want to catch his eye? I’ve been trying for the better part of a year and…” She exhaled dramatically. “I’m thinking he’s not overly impressed by style. So maybe I can make him notice by making a spectacular, game-saving catch in the outfield.”
Lia thought that was probably not ever going to happen, but she admired Kerri for her willingness to practice. “So I thought we could meet up this evening at the park. I’ll get some equipment from Jenna. You think Kate Joyner would like some extra practice?”
Kerri’s mouth quirked at the corner into a funny expression. “Um, I don’t think so.”
“No?” Finally, she’d worked her way around to the questions she really wanted to ask. And she’d done it without alerting Kerri to her suspicions about Bud, who seemed to be universally adored in this town.
“I don’t know if she could make evening practices,” Kerri said. “But even if she could get away, I don’t think her old man would like it.”
Paydirt. Kerri might be the only person in town with some reservations about Bud. “Why not?” Lia asked, investing her voice with as much innocent curiosity as she could muster.
Kerri shook her head and leaned into the counter. “I know everyone thinks Bud Joyner is like a walking embodiment of Santa Claus, but don’t let that white beard and fat belly fool you. He doesn’t treat Kate right. And I think he’s involved in something shady.”
“Shady? How?”
Kerri shook her head. “I don’t have any evidence, but you know about the fire down on Redbud Street?”
“I do. I helped Sarah Whitman go through her stuff yesterday and took her over to some temporary housing that the Red Cross provided.”
Kerri nodded. “I heard about that. The church ladies in this town are all atwitter about you, honey. And not just that romantic moment in the closet. Your willingness to step up and help Sarah has won people over. You’re doing a great audition as wife material for Micah St. Pierre.”
“I’m not auditioning to be his wife. I’d like to be his secretary is all.”
“Yeah, well, your actions yesterday have been duly noted.”
“What about the fire?” Lia pressed, trying to pull the conversation back inside the rails.
“The maintenance on those houses down on Redbud has all but stopped—ever since Art Moore died and his son took over the family real estate business. People have been complaining, but no one has been doing anything about it. I have to believe that some of those tenant complaints have reached the government. Bud Joyner is a county building and fire inspector, you know?”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Well, here’s the thing. Bud is one of Josh Moore’s bass-hole buddies. And Josh owns those houses. That’s pretty damning in my book. But it gets worse. Last year, Bud bought himself a new bass boat. It’s one of those Legend boats. Probably cost fifty thousand dollars. Now, you tell me, where did he get money for that?”
“He probably got a loan.”
Kerri shook her head. “No way. I heard him down at Bread, Butter, and Beans nine months ago bragging to one of the MHFD guys that he bought the boat with cash. Said he’d been saving for years.”
“Maybe he had.”
“Yeah, that’s possible. But I don’t believe it. I think Josh Moore is paying Bud to look the other way on those run-down cottages.”
“Noah’s mother lives in one of those houses.”
Kerri nodded. “I know. If you ask me, Noah doing the right thing getting his momma out of that house. It’s an accident waiting to happen.”
* * *
Noah strolled into the clinic on Tuesday morning and came to a full stop.
Holy crap. What had happened to Lia DiPalma? Not that Noah had any problems with the woman behind the reception desk who sort of resembled Lia, except she wore a halter dress that plunged in the front, exposing her cleavage. And her hair had come out of its prim and proper bun. Today it fell to her exposed shoulders in glossy waves.
A sudden and powerful surge of lust assailed him. He’d already had dreams about divesting her of her navy-issue gray T-shirts. He could only imagine the triple-X-rated dreams that dress was going to unleash. His fingers itched to attack the buttons down the front.
He was in some deep, deep trouble.
“Good morning,” Lia said, looking up from the reception desk. She wasn’t wearing her goofy computer glasses this morning. It felt as if another barrier between them had fallen.
And of course he’d already seen her naked and wanted to get another look.
“Morning,” he said, pulling his gaze away. He stalked into the area behind the reception desk where Lia had set up a bed for Prince. Prince greeted him with a vigorous tail wag and then jumped up on Noah, proving that the injured leg was on the mend.
“Hey, boy,” Noah said, bending over to give the puppy some love. “We need to find him a home, you know? Neither of us will be working here much longer. He can’t be an office dog.” The words were nothing more than the truth, but they struck a deep resonance within Noah. It might have been only a few days, but he liked walking into this clinic every morning and finding Lia and Prince waiting for him.
But he couldn’t stay, especially after that fire down the block from Momma’s house. Last night, with the odor of soot permeating the neighborhood, he’d reminded her that she’d promised to move back to Charleston with him at the end of the summer. So getting involved with Lia now would be a stupid move.
“I’m working on finding Prince a home,” she said. “Unfortunat
ely, Micah is a definite no. He’s got some stupid-ass theory about the dog. So I’ve shifted my efforts to Ashley and Jackie Scott. I think Ashley’s story about Jackie’s allergies is bogus, so I’m going to try to convince her to let Prince stay with me at Howland House. Jackie will do the rest. There’s nothing like a boy and his dog, you know?”
Noah stood up and poured himself a cup of Lia’s miraculous coffee. He took a sip and looked down into the worshipful gaze of the dog.
“What’s Reverend St. Pierre’s stupid-ass theory?” He wanted to know. And also he could not imagine a minister’s wife using the words “stupid-ass.” Nevertheless the whole town was abuzz about Lia DiPalma and her charitable nature. Helping Sarah Whitman had sealed the deal with the Episcopalian and Methodist church ladies and probably the AME and Lutheran ones as well. The consensus was that Lia was a good, Christian woman.
So expressions like “stupid-ass” should not actually be in her vocabulary. But he’d heard her say worse in moments of extreme duress.
When she didn’t answer his question, he shifted his gaze from Prince to her workstation where she sat looking off into space with those sad eyes that gave Prince’s puppy-dog stare a run for the money.
“What is it, Lia? What’s Rev. St. Pierre’s stupid-ass theory about the dog?”
She shrugged. “He’s of the opinion that Prince is the only reason I’m sticking around.”
That didn’t make any sense at all. Anyone who took a moment to know Lia would realize that she wanted a home more than anything. Which was a good reason for him to keep his distance. Lia didn’t want another move. She wanted to settle here. Didn’t Micah, who was supposed to be her soul mate, get that?
“Why would Micah think that?” Noah asked.
She turned her gaze his way. “I don’t really know. My mother was the nomad but I was always the one who wanted to settle down. I was always the one making friends, building relationships, organizing things for Mom. And then…” Her voice grew thin, and she looked away.
