by Nicole Ellis
Was Garrett painting her with the same brush as his mother? That would explain why he ran hot and cold around her. Dahlia wasn’t like Wendy and she didn’t know how to make that any more apparent to Garrett. However, she wasn’t about to change anything about herself to please someone else. She’d done that before and never would again.
A constant stream of customers kept Dahlia busy for the rest of the day. Maggie’s pastries had drawn so much business that she had to order more after lunchtime. Maggie had discounted the second batch of sweets in exchange for having a placard advertising the Bluebonnet Café affixed to the edge of the table.
Dahlia packed up the remaining merchandise and tore down her canopy tent. She fought to roll the canvas around the folded tent poles and stuffed them into the too-tight bag.
I did it, she thought, as she cinched the drawstring at the top of the bag. The unsold books fit into a single box and the second batch of pastries had almost sold out. She slung the tent bag over her shoulder and picked up the boxes.
As she left the market, she stopped at the animal shelter booth. “I thought you might like these.” She opened the pastry box to reveal a half dozen muffins and placed the box on the table.
“Thanks!” The female booth worker grabbed one as soon as Dahlia set down the box. “I saw people with these earlier and wondered where they were getting them from.”
“You’re welcome. Next week I’ll remember to bring you a few earlier in the day.”
The woman nodded enthusiastically. “We’d love that.” She offered the muffins to her male co-worker, who was stacking promotional materials in a box.
Dahlia lugged her cargo to her car and drove to the bookstore, exhausted but thrilled with another successful day. Participating in the market had been worth all the trouble she’d had getting signed up for the weekend.
She entered To Be Read through the back door and propped the tent bag against a wall in the storeroom. She walked into the main bookstore, where Gretchen was shelving a few books.
“I’m almost done,” Gretchen said as she placed the last book on the appropriate shelf.
“Thank you so much for volunteering to help me on summer market weekends,” Dahlia said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Maggie.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Gretchen said. She gave Dahlia a quick hug and stood back to regard her friend. “You look bushed. The store’s closed, but I made a fresh pot of coffee. Grab a cup and put your feet up. If you aren’t sick of Maggie’s baked goods yet, there’s a few left from this afternoon.”
“Coffee sounds amazing,” Dahlia said. She poured from the carafe into one of the mismatched mugs she’d bought from the thrift store and selected a cherry and cream cheese Danish. At this rate, she’d need to sign up for a gym membership soon. The only thing keeping the weight off was the amount of nervous energy she’d expended to make the bookstore successful.
“I think I’ll join you.” Gretchen grabbed a funky flowered mug and a donut, and plopped down on an armchair in the seating area. “The store was so busy, I barely had a chance to sit down all day. Whatever you’re doing to bring in business is working.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Dahlia said. “Whew.” She sat on the green sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table. “I feel like I’ve been running around like a hamster in a wheel.” She pointed at a tear in the sole of her sneakers. “Look, I’ve even got a hole in my shoe from all the running.”
Gretchen laughed. “Seriously though, I think this is going to work.”
“We’ll see. We had the tourist business over the weekend. I’ll have to run the numbers once we get a week of business on the books after the remodel. The espresso bar is going in this week, so the construction may put off some people, but I bet we’ll get some townspeople in to see what’s new in the store.”
“Yeah, this will be the biggest thing since the wine bar opened.”
“I hope so,” said Dahlia. “I’d love to show Agnes how wrong she was about me.” And Garrett too.
At the thought of Garrett, she scanned the room. “Is Wendy back yet?” She set her coffee cup down on the table.
“No, not yet, why?” Gretchen asked, leaning forward.
“I found something out today about her. Did you know she was Garrett’s mother?” She ran her hand through her hair.
“Garrett? Your Garrett?”
“He’s not my Garrett. We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, friends with benefits.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Dahlia, who retaliated by throwing a cushion at her. Gretchen laughed and threw her hands up in the air to ward off the cushion attack. “Okay, okay, you’re just friends. But you want to be more, right?”
“I don’t know. I think so. He kissed me once, last week, but every time I think something will come of it, we argue or something else happens and it never does.”
“Maybe I should start dropping hints to him. He came in here yesterday and seemed disappointed not to see you. I think he’d forgotten you’d be at the market.”
“Anyways…” Dahlia said. “Wendy is his mother. Small world, huh?”
“I’d never have guessed. She’s so bubbly and outgoing, and he’s so…” Gretchen’s voice trailed off. “Well, not a hermit, but definitely not an extrovert. But then again, he’s a writer and all.”
Dahlia smirked. She wanted to tell Gretchen about Garrett’s secret identity. But she’d promised him she wouldn’t tell anyone.
“Do you think it’s strange that Wendy never mentioned him before?”
“Eh, you’ve only known her for a week. It’s not like she forgot to mention she was a mass murderer or something.”
“You’re probably right,” Dahlia said. Time to change the subject and turn the tables on Gretchen. “You know, Adam was a big help in getting my application for the summer market approved.”
“Uh-huh,” Gretchen said. “He’s a nice guy. I’ve known him my whole life. Very dependable.”
“Dependable is good,” Dahlia said, watching her friend carefully.
“I guess.” Gretchen didn’t sound so sure.
“He asked about you.”
“He did? What did he say?” She seemed more interested now.
“Adam wanted to know what you were up to and asked me to put in a good word for him. Gretch, he really is a good guy.”
“I know, but he’s not very exciting. I feel like I went to college to get away from everything in this tiny town and then I failed to launch and had to come back to work for my parents. As much as I love real estate, this hadn’t exactly been my life plan.”
“I know how that goes,” Dahlia said. She threw her hands up in the air. “Who would have thought I’d be a bookstore owner?”
“Aunt Ruth,” Gretchen quipped. Dahlia threw the other cushion at her.
A noise in the back room drew both women’s attention.
“Hello?” Wendy called out.
“We’re in here,” Dahlia answered.
Wendy entered the room and Gretchen stood. “I’d better get home.”
Dahlia nodded at her and thanked her again for her help. She locked the front door after Gretchen exited.
Wendy flopped down on the couch. “It’s been a long day. Profitable though. I sold almost every piece. I’m going to need to hit up some garage sales and flea markets for some ‘before’ pieces.”
“I had a great sales day at the market too. And Gretchen said the bookstore was full of customers today.”
Wendy looked up at her. “Sorry about the awkwardness with my son.”
“Don’t worry about it. That seems to be a common feature of most of the interactions between Garrett and me.”
Wendy’s head jutted up and her keen gaze pierced into Dahlia. “How so?”
Dahlia squirmed under her scrutiny. “He seems to run hot and cold with me. One minute he wants to be friends, the next, he’s racing out the door.”
“I was afraid of that.” Wendy frowned. “He has a h
abit of not letting people get too close to him. It’s my fault. I wasn’t the greatest of mothers to him.”
“I’m sure you were fine,” Dahlia said. She was getting increasingly more uncomfortable talking about Garrett.
“No, I wasn’t there for him when he was a child. I was working on my business and thought I had to be moving around to all the flea markets and craft fairs to be successful. Not exactly a great way for a child to grow up.” Wendy’s usually cheery face had crumpled and tears shone in her eyes.
Dahlia walked over to her and patted her shoulder, unsure of the appropriate response.
“I can tell he has feelings for you though,” Wendy said, swiping her eyes with a facial tissue.
“For me? Why would you say that?”
“I may not have been the mother of the year, but I can tell when my son is interested in a girl.”
Dahlia stared at her. This conversation was growing stranger by the minute.
“You two must be pretty close if he’s trying to push you away,” Wendy said.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Time will tell.” Wendy stood, yawned, and stretched her arms high over her head. “I think I’m going to head upstairs. This weekend has worn me out.”
Dahlia said goodnight to her and sat down on the sofa, pulling her legs up underneath her. What was going on with Garrett? His mother, who barely knew him, seemed to think he was interested in her, so why were things so difficult between them? She leaned back against the sofa’s curved arm, closed her eyes, and relaxed her shoulder muscles. She’d had a long day too. Enough thinking about Garrett.
The weekend at the market replayed in her mind. Although physically draining, she’d never experienced such a thrill as she’d received by selling books to customers and, most of all, outwitting Agnes.
She opened her eyes and looked at the bookstore anew. This could actually work. The local handyman had fit her into his schedule and had already refinished the floors. The dark wood planks shone with love and polish, and she’d finished painting the rest of the walls. Her espresso bar would be installed during the week and the remodel would be complete. Aunt Ruth would be proud.
Contented, she closed her eyes again and fell asleep on the warm velvety sofa.
16
When Dahlia awoke, the sunlight that had been streaming through the bay window had been replaced by a soft glow from the street light. She turned her head to the side to see the clock on the wall. It showed the time to be after ten o’clock. She’d been out for several hours. She swung her legs off the couch and sat for a moment before she gathered her belongings, exited the building and locked the front door.
On a Sunday night, the town was quiet. Most of the weekend tourists had left and those who remained were safely ensconced in their luxury nightly rentals. Lights shone in a few windows, and from farther down Main Street, music from the bar’s jukebox trickled out the door.
She walked up the hill, relishing the stretch in her hamstrings after her nap on the green sofa. She hadn’t brought a jacket to work because the day had been warm. Now, in the evening chill, she had to wrap her hands around her arms to keep warm. A soft wind blew her hair back and she breathed deeply. The cold braced her, making her feel grateful to be alive and fortunate to call Candle Beach her home.
As she passed Garrett’s house, she glanced at the windows. Most of the lights were off, but a TV flickered in the living room. She hurried past, lest he think she was spying on him.
The built-up heat from the sunny day embraced her as soon as she entered Aunt Ruth’s house. Her stomach grumbled noisily and she headed for the kitchen. She rummaged around in the fridge and found a brick of cheddar cheese, a bunch of grapes and some crackers. Maybe not the healthiest of dinners, but it beat her steady diet of pastries.
After being outside, the kitchen walls seemed to close in on her. A breeze came through the one window she’d left open during the day and the beautiful, crisp summer night beckoned to her. On a whim, she filled a bag with the food and a Diet Coke. She knew exactly where she wanted to go.
The darkness of the sand loomed before her as she picked her way down the moonlit steps of the beach access. As a teenager, she’d often snuck out of Aunt Ruth’s house at night to gaze out at the ocean for hours, enjoying its sanctuary. She felt almost giddy as she sprung off the last step and jogged over to a beach log a few hundred feet from the base of the stairs. Except for a few herons pecking at something in the surf, the beach was deserted.
She climbed on top of an old gnarled log which was stacked on top of other beach logs and worn smooth in places by frequent exposure to the waves. After the excitement of her success at the summer market, and her confusion over Garrett’s behavior, she welcomed the quiet. She enjoyed the stillness for a while, and then pulled out her food. Her mouth salivated as she bit into a red grape. She was hungrier than she’d thought.
“Do you have enough to share?” a man’s voice asked.
She whipped her head around to see who had disturbed her solitude. Being alone at night on the beach had never scared her, but she was still wary of strangers. She squinted through the darkness to see who had spoken.
“Dahlia, it’s me, Garrett,” the man said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He crossed the sand to where she sat and leaned against the log.
“Hi.” Her heart raced and anticipation rose in her chest.
“I saw you from the top of the stairs.”
“What are you doing out here so late?” She moved the food over to make room for him to sit.
“I come down here often at night. There’s something so peaceful about being out here after everyone has left. It allows me time to think,” he said. “I’ve come up with some of my best book ideas while sitting here in the dark.”
She offered him the food and he used the serrated knife to cut a wedge of cheese, which he placed on a wheat cracker. He chewed the food and swallowed. “I’ve been working on a new chapter all day and I forgot to eat.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to starve,” she teased. “Who would get the fair maiden out of distress?”
“You, or the main character in my novel?” he quipped.
She punched him gently in the arm. He caught her wrist and took her hand. Her skin tingled below his fingertips and her breath caught at her body’s sudden reaction.
“Dahlia, I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting. I really am glad you decided to stay in town.”
Her eyes met his and her stomach took a freefall from the intensity of his gaze. She put down the piece of cracker she’d been about to eat. Tension crackled between the two of them. “I’m happy I decided to stay too.” She choked a little on a few crumbs, pulled her hand away from his, and took a swig of her Diet Coke.
“I’m sorry about this morning. I had no idea you knew my mother.” He glanced out at the inkiness of the Pacific Ocean, deep in thought.
“We met in Haven Shores last week,” she said. “She seems great.”
“Yeah, well, you just met her,” he said. “Wait until you’ve known her for a few weeks. Although not many people have the opportunity to experience that, as she has a way of flitting off after she grows tired of a place.”
Dahlia shrugged. “She told me she wanted to stay until the end of September. She seems to like Candle Beach.” She looked up at him. “Was that her who called while we were working last week?”
“Huh?” he said.
“While I was at your house,” she said. “You received a phone call and seemed upset afterward.”
“Oh, right,” he said. “That was when she called to let me know she was in town and wanted to have lunch with me. I hadn’t seen the woman in over a year and then she shows up and I’m supposed to jump when she says jump.” He shook his head.
“I don’t think she meant it that way,” Dahlia said. “When I met her, she seemed excited to come to Candle Beach and see you. Well, I didn’t know she meant you in particular, but she talked about
having family in Candle Beach.”
“I’m sure she was excited to come here. That doesn’t mean the excitement will last and it won’t be like every other time.”
“You never know.” Dahlia finished her handful of grapes and straightened up the remaining food. Her hand grazed his when she reached for the crackers. A familiar tingle shot through her and her heart raced. Her eyes met his and he smiled seductively.
“Look, I don’t want to talk about my mother. I’d rather talk about you. I came down here because once I saw you in the moonlight, I couldn’t keep away.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his gaze burning into hers. “And now I find myself not wanting to talk about anything at all.”
Her breath caught as he snaked an arm around her and pulled her close, so close that she could feel the heat coming off his chest and smell his tantalizing aftershave. Was this really happening? She closed her eyes. Every second felt like a minute until his lips met hers. The kiss was every bit as magical as their first kiss in the bookstore. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His fingers caressed the small of her back, sending shivers up her spine. They stayed that way for a moment and then broke away slightly. She opened her eyes and stared at him. Moonlight illuminated his face as he smiled in wonder.
“Remember when you threw yourself at me in Ruth’s garden on your first day in Candle Beach?” He stroked her face.
“I didn’t throw myself at you,” she said. “I tripped over a garden rake. You just happened to be in my way.”
He grinned at her. “I remember it differently. Anyways, you looked so cute and embarrassed when you gathered your unmentionables off the bush. I wanted to kiss you right then and there, but I had the feeling you would have thought I was crazy. And I wasn’t sure I hadn’t been spending too much time with my novel and somehow romanticized the situation.”
She laughed. “I probably would have thought you were crazy if you’d kissed me then.” She put her hand on his arm. “But I’m glad you did now.” They kissed again and he took her hand in his. For a while, they sat quietly and enjoyed the peace together.
