To my credit, I tried, but she spurned my questions. Her sharp answers irritated me. She seemed to be in a hurry to leave, so when she asked me about dinner I sent her on her way, which was foolish on my part. Okay, it was just plain stupid, and I instantly regretted it.
—
I spent part of the day whittling wood. It was either keep myself occupied or go stir-crazy. My stomach growled and I ignored it. I was mentally reviewing the contents of my cupboards when the door opened.
It was Jo Marie.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, none too welcoming.
“You haven’t had dinner and I suspect you went without lunch, too. Whether you’re hungry or not, I brought you something to eat.” Not waiting for me to respond, she started for the kitchen.
My mouth sagged open with surprise and relief. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was that made her come back with a meal, I was grateful.
Within minutes Jo Marie returned with a sandwich, and crowding the plate was a circle of oatmeal-raisin cookies. “Eat,” she insisted, handing me the dish.
For half a second I was tempted to refuse. I wised up fast enough, though. I accepted the sandwich and immediately wolfed it down.
Jo Marie returned to the kitchen and came back with a mug of hot tea. After setting that down on the end table, she sat down next to me and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees.
It took effort to slow down my eating. My pride refused to let her see how ravenous I was.
“I met with Peggy Beldon this morning,” she mentioned, and straightened enough to remove a piece of lint from her slacks.
Peggy and Bob, who owned another B&B in town, were the ones who’d given Jo Marie my name. I knew the couple had been generous with their help and advice. As I recalled, it’d been Peggy’s idea for Jo Marie to throw the open house. While it might be a good way to introduce herself to the business community, it’d been nothing but a headache to me. Jo Marie had me working dawn to dusk—first on that blasted rose garden and then on other projects to get ready for the big event.
“Afterward I stopped off and picked up some appetizers from the printer. By the way, Brad will be there.”
“Brad?” I didn’t know any Brad and I wasn’t particularly excited for her to talk about other men. That was something else I didn’t want to think about too closely.
“The printer,” she said, as if I should have known that. Leaning over, she snagged her purse and reached inside before handing me a large postcard.
“What’s that?”
“Your invitation. I know you said you weren’t coming, but I want you to have an invite anyway.”
I took it but set it aside. “I’m not coming.” I felt it was necessary to reiterate that point.
She blinked as if my words had wounded her.
“What?” I asked. “I never said I’d come, so don’t give me that puppy-dog look like I’ve disappointed you.”
She looked down at her hands. “I know.”
“I don’t understand why you’d even want me there.”
Her head came back up. “You don’t understand why you don’t want to be there?”
I’d lost count of the number of times she’d asked and the equal number of times I’d refused. Apparently, she needed to hear it again. “This might come as a big surprise, but I’m not a people person. My being at your open house would put a damper on the entire affair.”
“But, Mark, you’re the only friend I’ve got.”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “What about Peggy and Grace and—”
“They’re my mentors. Most everyone I know here in Cedar Cove is old enough to be my mother. You’re the only person I see regularly who’s around the same age as me.”
I wasn’t sure how to tell her this. “Listen, Jo Marie, we are not friends.” As soon as I said the words I wanted to swallow them back, but I couldn’t.
Her eyes widened as though she’d been caught off guard. “Then what are we?”
The answer wasn’t that easy. I didn’t have a clue how to describe our relationship. If I admitted we were friends she might guess that my feelings for her had intensified, and I couldn’t have that. Our relationship was tricky enough without bringing any mention of romance into it. Jo Marie was a widow mourning the loss of her war-hero husband, and I was a coward who’d gone against everything I knew to be right.
After some thought, I said, “We’re business associates.”
Her head went back as she absorbed my answer. “Okay, business associates. And as a businessman, I would think you’d want to show off the work you’ve done. Almost everyone comments about the sign you made. A lot of time and skill went into that. And then there’s the fireplace. You created an entirely new mantel.”
“I’ve got more business than I can handle right now. Why would I look for more?”
“Of course,” she whispered.
I’d barely finished the sandwich when she leaped up, grabbed the plate, and disappeared into the kitchen. She was there for an inordinate amount of time, and I couldn’t imagine what she was doing.
“Jo Marie?”
“Just a minute,” she called back. She didn’t sound like herself.
After the long silence, I heard the door to the dishwasher creak open. She had to be putting away the clean dishes.
“I’ll do that,” I called out. She didn’t need to be doing housework.
She ignored me, which was exactly what I knew she’d do.
A few minutes later she returned to the living room carrying the same bag she’d arrived with. “Can I ask you a question?”
I didn’t know why not—nothing ever stopped her before. “Go ahead.”
“If we’re business associates and not friends, then why is it that you stop by the inn when you’re not working? You come with one lame excuse or another.”
“Lame excuse?”
“You know what I mean. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve sat and had coffee on the porch and just talked.”
She was right and I didn’t have an answer. “I like your coffee.”
“But not my company.”
I shrugged and realized I was digging myself in deeper every time I opened my mouth. “You don’t bore me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I don’t bore you,” she repeated with a snicker. “Be careful, Mark, all these compliments might go to my head.”
That sounded sarcastic, but I let it pass.
“And my coffee is good?”
“Yeah, you make a great cup of coffee.” I meant that sincerely and hoped it was enough to dig me out of this hole I’d fallen into.
The room was full of tension and I realized I wasn’t helping matters any. She was already upset and I was only adding to her distress. The uneasiness between us felt as if a cement truck had arrived and poured a concrete wall separating us.
“Where’s Rover?” I asked, looking to turn around the conversation.
“Why would you care?” No denying it now. Her sarcasm was as thick as tar.
“Just curious.” I’d grown fond of Rover, although I went out of my way to hide that fact. It wasn’t unusual for him to lay sprawled out in the grass while I worked on the rose garden. He watched my every move. I didn’t want it advertised, but every now and again I brought him a small treat.
Jo Marie stood by the door, her back to me. I noticed she had the bag she’d brought with her and it didn’t look empty.
“Are you taking the leftovers with you?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes.”
“The cookies?” I wanted to protest.
“I brought them for a friend, only to learn I don’t have one. We’re business associates.” She opened the door.
I desperately wanted to stop her, but I didn’t know what to say. “Will I see you later?” I called out, hoping to sound indifferent and realizing I didn’t.
“Probably not. I’m going to be busy with the open house and all.”
&nbs
p; “Right.” My shoulders sagged.
“See ya,” she said.
“Yeah, see ya,” I replied.
The door closed and Jo Marie was gone. My gut clenched. I had royally screwed that up. I didn’t do relationships. I’d messed up every single one, every single time.
Jo Marie claimed I was her only friend. What she didn’t know—and what I hadn’t told her—was that she was my only friend, too.
Chapter 4
True to Jo Marie’s word, I didn’t hear from her on Sunday morning. I knew she was busy getting everything ready for the open house. I also knew that I’d burned bridges with her. I repeatedly told myself it was probably for the best, although I had trouble accepting it. I’d let her get under my skin.
What she’d said about those lame excuses to spend time with her had hit the mark. It seemed a day couldn’t go by without me finding one reason or another to make an appearance at the inn. Most of the time I was already there, working on the list of projects Jo Marie needed done. At the end of the day, it’d become a habit to relax with her and watch the sun set. There was no better view of the cove than that from the inn.
Jo Marie wasn’t a big talker and I liked that about her. She didn’t see any reason to fill the silence with a bunch of endless chatter. Like me, she was content to unwind, enjoy the view, and sip coffee or occasionally a glass of white wine.
By noon I was hungry. The crutches weren’t my friend, though by necessity I was becoming more adept at getting around. I found a frozen pizza but had no idea how long it’d been in the freezer. When I got it out of the box the topping looked like something a cat threw up. Disgusted, I tossed it into the garbage and checked out the cupboards. I had one can of tomato soup, which I heated and ate standing up in the kitchen. I would have enjoyed a few of Jo Marie’s cookies afterward. Guess I had to get used to going without.
Damn. I’d blown it with her. Once more I tried to tell myself that severing ties with her was for the best. But I knew otherwise. We relied on each other. I helped her and she helped me, and that was the crux of the problem. I didn’t like relying on her nor was I comfortable with the way my thoughts so often went to her.
This wasn’t the first time we’d had a spat. A couple days ago she’d asked me to wash the outside of the inn’s windows. I grumbled and told her to add it to the list. I knew this was all part of the preparation for the open house. I didn’t need anything added to my workload, especially if she wanted that rose garden completed. When I wasn’t fast enough to suit her, she’d tackled the job herself.
I’d been working on getting the lawn dug up for the garden when I saw her balancing on the stepladder with a bucket of water and a squeegee. I frowned because it was obvious she didn’t know what she was doing. When she teetered on the ladder, I lost it.
What ensued was a shouting match that ended with me quitting. We were both boiling mad. Before I said or did something I knew I would regret, I walked off the job and stewed all the way home.
I couldn’t speak for Jo Marie, but I didn’t sleep well that night. By morning my temper had cooled considerably. We were at an impasse. Both of us were proud people and it wouldn’t be easy to cross this breach. I decided to work in my shop for the day while I mulled over how best to proceed with this touchy situation.
Mid-morning, Jo Marie showed up with Rover and a plate of peanut-butter cookies, telling me it was a peace offering. To put it mildly, I was happy to see her. We’d made it over that hurdle. This time, however, I wasn’t sure it was possible.
By insisting we weren’t friends, I’d hurt Jo Marie. I’d seen the pain and disappointment in her eyes. In retrospect, I realized I wasn’t totally responsible for her mood. Something else had happened, something she didn’t want to discuss with me, which was partly responsible for my claim that we were business associates and not friends. Her reluctance to share what had happened to upset her had rattled me.
I might convince myself it was the pain from my leg that kept me awake, but the truth was a lot of the discomfort had passed.
Sunday dragged along. I hoped to hear from Jo Marie but knew I wouldn’t. She had other things on her mind. I toyed with the idea of texting her. I would have if I knew what to say. Any attempt at humor came off sounding forced and insincere. A simple I’m sorry seemed inadequate. What she deserved was a genuine apology, and a text wouldn’t convey that.
I checked my watch and saw that it was time for the open house. I knew what I had to do. As much as I hated the thought of it, I needed to make a showing. Best I could figure it was the only way to make peace with Jo Marie.
I checked the invitation she’d left behind to be sure of the time and then waited thirty minutes before I called a taxi. Although the distance between the inn and my house was easily walkable, I wouldn’t be able to manage it on crutches.
—
The taxi pulled into the driveway of the inn and there was barely room to park. The day was sunny and bright, and I admitted the B&B had never looked better. Jo Marie had purchased red Martha Washington geraniums and put them along the front of the porch, adding a splash of color. The front door was open; people wandered in and out. I saw several I knew, including Judge Olivia Lockhart and the town’s newspaper editor, Jack Griffin. Naturally, Bob and Peggy were there, too.
I barely noticed any of them, however, because Jo Marie was all I could see. All I wanted to see. I opened the cab door, climbed out, and balanced myself on my crutches while I paid the driver. As soon as he collected his fee, he drove off, leaving me close to the foot of the steps.
“Mark?”
Jo Marie whispered my name, but I heard it as clearly as if she’d shouted it from across the street.
I stood at the bottom of the steps, which at the moment looked more than daunting. Jo Marie came down and joined me.
“I thought you said you weren’t coming,” she said stiffly.
“I changed my mind.” I hoped she’d accept my arrival as apology enough. “You gave me an invitation, remember?”
“I did,” she said. “You’re here as a business associate. Let me help you up the stairs.”
“I can manage.”
“Of course you can, but I’m here just in case you have any trouble.”
Having something to prove, I put all my strength and agility into making it up those eight steps, but by the time I reached the top I was breathless and shaky. If she noticed, Jo Marie didn’t say anything.
“Would you like to sit down?”
By this point I was barely able to move. “Might be a good idea.” The living area sofa was empty and the closest piece of furniture. I did my best not to collapse onto it.
“Can I get you anything?” Jo Marie asked.
“Coffee,” I said. “And if you’re so inclined, a few of those cookies.”
Once I was settled I didn’t move. Two hours passed and Jo Marie was busy giving tours and showing visitors the changes she’d made to the inn since taking it over from the Frelingers. A couple times local business owners stopped by to chat with me. Mostly they commented on one or another of the projects I’d done and inquired about my availability. I didn’t need anyone to tell me Jo Marie had sent them.
Finally the open house dwindled down to just Jo Marie and me. I could tell by the way she walked that she was exhausted. She wore a dress and heels. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her in anything other than pants and I had to admit she looked mighty fine. The woman had a great pair of legs.
“You clean up well,” I said, when she joined me on the sofa.
“It’s important to make a good impression for my business associates,” she said, pointedly.
“And your friends,” I added.
“Apparently, I don’t have any,” she said, straightening her spine. “You’re a business associate, remember?”
“True,” I concurred, “but I’m also a friend.”
“You sure?” she asked.
“I think so. The reason I said otherwise was because”—
I hesitated—“I noticed you weren’t yourself. But when I asked a few questions you bit my head off and stalked away.” I didn’t mention that she’d told me to stay out of her personal life.
She lowered her head. “I was upset.”
“I figured.”
“But I came back, remember?” Her smile was difficult to ignore. She leaned against the back of the sofa.
“And I was grateful. I regretted what I’d said earlier.”
Her brows arched close to her hairline. “My heavens, Mark, was that an apology I just heard?”
No use denying it. “Yes.”
Her face warmed with her smile. “I shouldn’t have been so abrupt with you.”
“We’re good, then?”
“We’re good,” she repeated.
I could have drowned in that look, and after clearing my throat I asked, “Say, are there any leftovers?” You can’t blame a guy for thinking about his stomach, especially in light of the fact my cupboards look like the Sahara.
“Didn’t you get a plate earlier?”
“Yeah, but I was thinking about later. There’s not much at the house.”
“I’ll make a grocery run for you tomorrow.”
It was hard for me to accept her help, but I was done fighting it. “I’d appreciate that.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
The edges of her mouth quirked and I knew she’d suppressed a smile. I found myself looking long and hard at her mouth, which held me completely mesmerized. I’d never noticed how full her lips were or how kissable. With effort I dragged my attention away.
“Did anyone mention the rose garden wasn’t complete?” I asked, needing to take my mind off kissing her.
“No one.”
“Did you say that I was the one who got behind schedule and that it’s all my fault?” She’d warned me she would.
“No…I wouldn’t do that.”
“You came down pretty hard on me earlier,” I reminded her.
“Only because I was disappointed.”
The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint Jo Marie. The hurt in her eyes had eaten me up. I couldn’t get the picture of her sad face out of my mind, which was the reason I was here now.
Falling for Her (Short Story) (Kindle Single) Page 3
