by Hope Ramsay
“Her handwriting does not meet our standards for—”
“Oh, for crying out loud. I’m fed up with stupid teachers who spend all their time trying to teach to some stupid standard while they miss the most obvious thing.”
“Mr. Lyndon, keep your voice down, please,” Mrs. Geary said. “I understand your concerns about handwriting, but you yourself were among the school board members who supported a back-to-basics curriculum a few years back. And that curriculum included the teaching of cursive writing.”
“What?”
“You can look it up. We are required by Jefferson County to teach cursive writing in third grade. We have always interpreted that to mean that we should mark down spelling tests when the writing doesn’t meet acceptable standards.”
David stood up and leaned over the table. “I don’t give a damn what your interpretation of the back-to-basics program is. Can’t you see that you’ve petrified my daughter? You’ve convinced her that she can’t spell and that she’s failing in school. She was so ashamed she hid these papers from me and—”
“Mr. Lyndon, as a parent it’s your duty to make sure your child doesn’t hide papers from you. You should be checking her backpack regularly.” Mrs. Geary got up and matched his aggressive stance.
Well, that was that. He was done, finished. He loved his daughter. It might be that he left a lot of the day-to-day to Poppy, but he certainly wasn’t going to stand there and let two old biddies suggest that all of Natalie’s problems were his fault. And he certainly wasn’t keeping his child in this kind of toxic situation.
He turned toward his daughter, who was looking up at him with wide, dark eyes. “Come on, we’re leaving now. You’ll be coming to the office with me today.”
He took Natalie by the hand as she hopped down from the chair.
“Mr. Lyndon, are you withdrawing your child from the school?”
“Yes,” he said.
“You know that’s against the law. She is required to attend school, and if she doesn’t attend school, I will have to report her as truant. And if you, as a parent, encourage truancy, it’s considered a misdemeanor in the Commonwealth of Virginia.”
“Mrs. Geary, I intend to enroll my daughter at St. Luke’s, where I went to school as a boy.”
He stepped around the principal and walked right out the front door just as school buses began to unload kids. David and Natalie were a lot like salmon swimming upstream as they headed toward the parking lot.
It was raining pretty hard, and he hadn’t brought an umbrella. Cold water pelted him, cooling him down. It suddenly occurred to him that Bill Cummins might have a field day with what had just happened.
“Am I not going to school today?” Natalie asked.
“No, you’re not.”
“I don’t mind going to school, really,” she said. “I mean I kind of like it, especially recess and lunchtime with Ilene and Olivia.”
He stopped and turned to face his child. He was so much taller that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. That didn’t strike him as fair, especially since the rain had started to fall in earnest. So he squatted down and took her by the shoulders.
“You listen to me, okay?” he said, blinking as the rain hit his face. “What happened today is not because you did something wrong. For one thing, you didn’t fail any spelling tests. You spelled all your words correctly, and I’m proud of you. And I don’t think your handwriting is all that bad, although it’s a little bit sloppy, but then, you’re left-handed and that makes it hard. We can work on that, okay? It’s not a big deal. But it’s a big deal when people try to make you feel like you’re stupid. I don’t like that. Not one bit.”
His words stuck in his throat and his chest constricted. Damnit. He loved her more than anything on the face of the planet. He opened his arms and she stepped into them. He pulled her close and pressed his nose to her beautiful red hair, breathing her in.
* * *
After spending the morning with Mrs. M and Walter Braden, Willow had a long list of repairs and upgrades that needed to be taken care of before the wedding reception, not to mention the gigantic list of things Poppy said were necessary in order to plan a wedding properly.
That list was daunting. It left her feeling oddly unprepared for her luncheon meeting with Melissa and her two bridesmaids at Gracie’s Diner. Willow found Melissa, Courtney, and Arwen waiting for her at one of the big booths near the diner’s front door.
“Hi, everyone,” she said, plastering a bright, businesslike smile on her face. “Sorry I’m a little late. I was out at the inn taking stock. There’s a lot to get done. Including new holiday decorations.”
“What’s wrong with the decorations?” Courtney asked.
“They need replacing.”
“Oh. That’s bad, you know, because part of why Melissa wants to have her reception at the inn is because it’s always decorated to the nines. I mean, it’s like a tradition to go there for high tea in December just to see all the lights and wreaths and greenery.”
“I know. We’re working on it.” In fact, she and Mrs. M had spent quite a bit of time talking about the Christmas decorations. The mice had destroyed so much.
“I’m sure you and Mrs. Marchand will have the inn looking as beautiful as ever. I’m not worried,” Melissa said.
Just then Gracie came over carrying four plates in her arms. She put a patty melt in front of Arwen, a ham and Swiss on rye in front of Melissa, a cobb salad in front of Courtney, and a tuna sandwich on whole wheat toast with lettuce, tomato, and mayo in front of Willow.
Willow frowned up at her. “How did you know I—”
Gracie waved her hand. “It’s not magic. The thing is, most folks come in here and order the same thing every day. This is what you had yesterday, so I figured I’d take a chance and make you another one.” Gracie gave her a wide grin. “Did you know that you and David Lyndon like the same lunch? Isn’t that nice?”
No, it was kind of creepy or something, but she smiled back at Gracie. “Uh, thanks. For lunch and for helping me land this job.”
Gracie gave another carefree wave. “Don’t even think about it, hon. You’re the one who put the wheels in motion.” She gave Melissa a sappy look. “I just want to make sure Melissa gets exactly what she wants on her wedding day.” Gracie leaned down and got right up into Willow’s face. “I’ll tell you a secret,” Gracie whispered. “I’ve seen Melissa pining over a picture in Brides of a wedding dress with a big, white fur-lined cape, like something right out of a fairy tale. I want her to have that.”
After delivering this bomb, Gracie straightened up and headed off toward the kitchen.
A fur-lined cape? Really? Oh boy, Willow was in deep, deep trouble. So many questions entered her mind that her head almost exploded. She knew nothing about wedding dresses. Was she supposed to be responsible for that too? Where the heck did you go for a fur-lined cloak, and how much would that cost, and did Melissa want real fur or would faux-fur do? Not knowing what else to do, she picked up her sandwich and took a bite.
Melissa came to her rescue. She pushed her big, black glasses up her nose and said, “I don’t really need that cloak. Gracie just saw me admiring it, and you know how she can be.”
“Of course you need the cloak.” Courtney put down her fork and pulled an iPad from her satchel purse. “I knew we were having this meeting so I thought I’d pull together some ideas on Pinterest.” She booted up her tablet. A moment later, she turned the screen so everyone at the table could see.
Courtney had pinned at least a hundred images to a board she’d named “Melissa’s Fairytale Christmas Wedding.” The images ran the gamut from white fur-lined cloaks to dozens of photos of red bridesmaid dresses. It didn’t end there. Courtney had place settings (heavy on the pine boughs and red roses), candles wrapped in beech bark, and at least a dozen images of cinnamon sticks being used creatively in one way or another, either as food or decoration. She also had more than twenty images of Christmas de
cor wrapped around banisters and on mantels and gracing front doors. It was clear Courtney wanted Melissa to have a wedding that was all wrapped up in pine roping and tied with a tinsel bow…with a bunch of cinnamon sticks.
Willow continued to eat her sandwich while Courtney, Melissa, and Arwen dived right into a discussion of the merits of every blessed photo on Courtney’s Pinterest page. Willow eventually took out a notebook and tried to keep up, but she soon came to the conclusion that she should let Courtney plan the whole thing. Wow. Who knew Courtney would grow out of her braces and her aptitude for math and science to become a wedding planner in the making?
A fiendish thought crossed Willow’s mind. Maybe if she could come up with the money to buy the inn, she could hire Courtney and put her in charge of planning all the weddings. Would she give up being a nurse? Doubtful, but it was worth considering.
Willow was beginning to relax about the whole wedding-planner thing when the bell above the diner’s door jingled and David strolled into the diner, holding his daughter by the hand. The moment his highly polished wing tips crossed the threshold, the atmosphere in the place changed. It got hot. And hard to breathe.
Gracie apparently had no problems with the atmosphere. She greeted Natalie with a gigantic smile and said, “Hey, honey, you sure are pretty today in your polka dots. You want a grilled cheese sandwich?”
Natalie said nothing. She continued to stand there with a death grip on David’s hand. In the few hours since Willow had last seen her, the little girl had lost her hair ribbon and ponytail elastic. Now her hair tumbled around her shoulders in a fiery tangle that looked as if she’d gone running outside in the rain and then let her hair dry on its own.
Gracie looked from the child to her father, her smile fading a little. “You’re late,” she said. “I had to give your usual table to Rick Sharp.” She nodded toward the third table from the door, where a rotund man in a three-piece suit was eating the fried chicken special. “And to be honest,” Gracie continued, “I gave your sandwich to Willow. Did you know that you and she like the same lunch?”
David followed Gracie’s glance, which was how Willow found herself caught in his stare again, just like earlier in the morning. Only this time it seemed to last forever before David broke it by glancing down at the crusts of bread on her plate.
Willow decided right then and there that she was giving up tuna sandwiches. From now on she’d be a turkey-on-rye kind of girl.
Melissa took that moment to jump up from her seat and tackle David with a big, joyful hug that knocked her glasses a little sideways. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, and then let him go.
His ears got red in the most adorable way. Then he gave Melissa the tiniest of smiles—one that barely brought his dimple out. “I haven’t done anything,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Yes, you have. And thank you so much for hiring Willow to make it all happen. She’s already been so helpful.” Melissa straightened her glasses and glanced back at the table where Courtney and Arwen waved at David like a couple of goofs.
Willow sat on her hands. She wasn’t going to wave at him.
Or do anything else that came immediately to mind, because most of those thoughts were inappropriate. She was not supposed to notice how sexy he looked in his suit or the way his slightly too-long hair curled over the collar of his shirt. She wasn’t supposed to notice the aura of power and competence that surrounded him, even when he was in parental mode.
It was wrong to feel this tingling in her belly. It was wrong to imagine him without the shirt and tie. To imagine what it might be like to touch his skin, feel the rasp of his beard against her face.
So wrong.
* * *
Last Friday Willow had worn a black business suit with a skinny skirt that showed her long, amazing legs. Today it was a black dress that hugged all her curves. Funny how that high neckline was way sexier than the open buttons down Roxanne’s blouse the other night. David didn’t need to go looking down Willow’s blouse to admire her shape. That dress displayed her like it was painted on. And when he looked at her, it didn’t disturb or disgust him. He enjoyed the view. He enjoyed it so much that he forced himself to look away and focus on finding a place to sit, since Rick Sharp had ensconced himself in David’s favorite booth.
Unfortunately, the only booth available was the one right next to Willow’s. He made sure to put Natalie in the bench seat that backed up to the bride and her bridesmaids. That way his daughter and the booth blocked his view of his wife’s best friend. Equally important, he wouldn’t have to worry about feeling the heat against his back. It seemed like a good idea until Natalie got antsy, hopped up on her knees, and leaned over the top of the bench seat.
“Hi, Miss Willow,” she said in a loud voice that everyone in the diner could hear, and then followed it up with, “Daddy told Mrs. Welch that she was stupid.”
“Natalie, sit down. Now. And don’t use that word,” David said.
“But, Daddy, you—”
“Sit down and stop bothering Miss Willow.”
Natalie complied but not without a defiant pout that he found annoying as hell.
Willow peeked around the edge of her booth. “You have a moment?” she asked.
Well, crap. He didn’t want to talk to her. He totally regretted having hired her. And he was embarrassed by Melissa’s recent show of affection. He just wanted to be left alone.
But that wasn’t about to happen, was it? “Sure,” he said, then took a bite of the tuna sandwich Gracie had just delivered.
Willow turned back to Melissa and her friends. “Courtney, you and Melissa make a list of everything you want, okay?”
“Everything?” David heard one of the women say.
“Yup, everything. Including the fur-lined cloak. We’ll need to figure out if it’s possible to get something like that on short notice. So I’ll need that list, with specific suppliers and manufacturers, as soon as possible.”
Squeals followed, and David had the sinking feeling that this wedding wasn’t going to be a small, inexpensive affair after all. Good thing Jeff had called this morning and insisted on paying for the reception, including the food, beverages, flowers, cake, and dresses. David was paying for the repairs to the inn. And Willow’s salary, of course, but that was negligible.
Willow slid into the facing bench, next to Natalie. “So I guess your dad took you out of school for the day, huh?”
Natalie nodded. “Yeah, and I got to go to the office with him, and Miss Gillian let me play with a computer and I did some math and then we came here for lunch.” Natalie picked up her grilled cheese and started munching.
Willow turned toward David. “Mrs. Welch got the better of you, huh?”
“I guess.”
“Well, don’t feel bad. My mother had the same reaction.”
“I remember the story. She kept you out of school. For how long?”
“About a week.”
“You got to stay home from school for a whole week?” Natalie asked, clearly impressed.
“Well, it wasn’t as fun as it sounds. Because I was home, I had to help my mom clean goat poop in the barn in the morning, and then we staged a sit-in at the school in the afternoon. That was kind of embarrassing, to tell you the truth.”
“Don’t worry, Natalie. We’re not going to stage a sit-in,” David said. “And you’re not staying out of school for a week.”
“I’m going back tomorrow?”
“No. We have an appointment with St. Luke’s Episcopalian School.”
“What’s an ipopsickle?”
“Never mind. It’s a new school.”
Natalie blinked at him, her eyes suddenly bright. “But…I don’t want to go to a new school.”
Crap. He’d disappointed her again, apparently. But before he could come up with something reassuring to say, Willow put her arm around her. “Oh, sweetie, don’t cry. You’re a lucky girl to be able to go to the Episcopal school. It’s the best s
chool in Jefferson County. You should thank your daddy. He’s not going to make you stay home for a week or shovel goat poop.”
Natalie giggled at that. “We don’t have a goat.”
“Lucky thing. Goats are smelly and noisy.”
“Do you still have a goat?”
Willow shook her head. “Nope. We have two alpacas named Bogey and Bacall. Want to see a picture of them?”
Natalie nodded, and Willow whipped out her cell phone and started showing Natalie pictures.
After a few minutes, Natalie asked, “Can I come over to your house and pet them?”
“Sure, if your dad says it’s okay.”
Natalie looked at him expectantly.
“We’ll see,” he said, and gave Natalie his I’m-in-charge look. He didn’t like the idea of her visiting Linda Petersen’s farm. God only knew what that woman was growing out there in her greenhouses. The stories continued to circulate that she was cultivating marijuana in between the herbs she used for her handmade soaps.
Natalie leaned back against the seat and gave Willow her I’m-a-poor-little-girl pout. She’d learned that look from Shelly, and it was both cute and annoying. “Daddy doesn’t like animals much,” she said. “He won’t let me get a dog or a cat or even a fish. And I want a dog for Christmas.” She folded her arms across her chest.
Enough. He didn’t need Natalie airing the family business for everyone to hear. “Finish your lunch,” he directed, and then turned toward Willow. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Uh, yeah, it’s about the budget for the inn. I walked through the place with Walter this morning. We made a list, and I’ll be calling contractors today. I should have an idea of the budget by Monday or Tuesday, but there’s one additional item we need to discuss.”
“What?” He barked the word, but Willow didn’t even blink. She stared at him in that forthright way that had his gonads in a sudden uproar. What the hell?
