Love in a Small Town Box Set 1

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Can you give me just a minute?” She was speaking again, and this time her voice was stronger, more assured. “I did some research when Sam told me what you were thinking of, and I have the information for you, but it’s in the back with my purse.” She glanced at Piper head on my shoulder, and an expression I couldn’t read passed over her face. “I’ll only be a second, and you can take it with you. I know you need to get home.”

  “Sure.”

  As soon as I said it, Rilla was gone, maneuvering around the tables and boxes to a break in the partition. She disappeared behind the half-wall briefly and then came out with a manila folder in her hand. The bottom of her denim skirt flapped around her white Keds as she walked back toward me.

  “Here you are.” She thrust the folder into my hand. “Basically, I looked into how restaurants that add new hours most successfully capitalize on pulling their existing clientele into the additional times. And then I came up with some ideas to get the word out to an entirely new part of the population that you’re offering a new and different kind of service.” She shrugged. “See if any of it looks good, and then you can let me know. My card’s stapled in there.”

  I frowned. “So you’re giving me the work you already did. What’s to stop me from just taking your ideas here and running with them by myself? Why would I need you?”

  She tilted her head and finally looked at me for more than a nanosecond. “Because Sam says you’re a good man, and I trust him. And if you’re the kind of person who’d do that, I wouldn’t want to work with you anyway.” Her lips pressed together, and I thought I detected maybe the slightest tremor, but to her credit, she didn’t look away.

  “Sam may give me too much credit, but yeah, I wouldn’t do that. I just—you need to be careful. Not all people would be that honest.”

  “And I wouldn’t give all people the chance.”

  She was quick with the comeback, and that took me by surprise. It struck me that she might be shy, but she wasn’t timid.

  “Good to know.” I nodded and with one hand, I flipped back the cover of the folder and glanced at the top sheet. The information looked like it was well-organized, printed on paper with a simple letterhead: Marilla Grant. “Marilla. That’s not a name you hear often.”

  “It was my great-grandmother’s. I’m named for her.” She looked uncomfortable again, and I got another clue to this chick: like Meghan had said, when it came to business, she was confident and easy, but once the conversation shifted to anything more personal, anything about her, she was stiff and nervous.

  “Huh. Okay.” I twisted my wrist to close the file again and tapped the edge of it against my leg. “So if you’re going to represent my business, I’d like you to come in and see it, get an idea of what you’ll be promoting.”

  Pure, unadulterated panic filled her face. “Oh, no. No, I couldn’t do that.” She was shaking her head and backing away as though I were about to kidnap her and take her to The Road Block by force.

  I didn’t move, except to quirk an eyebrow. “Why not? This is business. You can’t accurately promote what you don’t know.”

  “I can’t go to a bar. My father would—” She shook her head again. “He would be furious. And so upset.”

  A sudden and unreasonable anger toward her father shot through me. There was something off about any girl her age—I remember Sam had said Rilla was about as old as Meghan—who was that tied up by what might make her father mad. I understood respecting a parent’s wishes. I always tried to do that. But there was a limit, a time when I had to stand up for what I knew was right for me. My parents had respected that. That Rilla’s father had her terrified to stop by a bar for something related to her work pissed me off.

  “Look, I’m not asking you to come swig beer on a Saturday night. I’m saying, stop in during lunch hours next week. See what we’re doing. Have a meal on the house.” I shifted my weight onto the other foot. “Hell, bring your father with you if it’d make him feel better.”

  Rilla’s mouth dropped open a little. “Oh, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. But ...” She looked down at the floor, and the thumb went back to the edge of her lip. I doubted she even realized she did it. “I do see your point. I think I could come over during lunch next week, if it’s okay with Sam. And maybe then I could answer any questions you might have, and we could finalize the plans for your promotion.” She raised her eyes again.

  “That works. Lunch hours are eleven to three. Just let me—”

  Piper moaned and lifted her head from my shoulder. Both the side of her face and my shirt were soaked with her sweat and drool. I grimaced. The bodily fluids stuff was one of my least favorite parts of fatherhood.

  “Daddy—the horses were playing.” She straightened, but her eyes were still closed. I smiled.

  “Daddy’s right here, princess. Shhhh. You’re okay. I’m going to take you home to see Nan in a minute, and you can tell her and Mrs. Murphy all about the horses.”

  I looked back down at Rilla, prepared to finish up and make a quick exit in case Piper had one of her rough wake-ups and began throwing a fit. She had a bad habit of waking up from naps confused and disoriented, which often led to screaming and crying. It was always worse when she fell asleep away from home.

  But the expression on Rilla’s face gave me pause. She was looking at Piper with a mix of emotions that I couldn’t figure out. Almost yearning, almost sympathy, but definitely the most open and genuine I’d seen her. Her hand reached out, and it occurred to me that she didn’t quite realize what she was doing. Her fingertips brushed the side of Piper’s arm, right where the tan skin met the blue of her shirt.

  My daughter opened her eyes and looked down at the unfamiliar woman. I held my breath, waiting for the first scream, but instead, Piper only blinked and sat still.

  “Do you want a blackberry? They’re really good.” Rilla spoke softly, but not in the high-pitched sing-songy voice some people used with kids. She glanced up at me from under those dark lashes. “If it’s okay with your dad, I mean.”

  “Sure. She loves berries.”

  Rilla leaned around me and picked up a pint of berries in one of the green biodegradable containers. She nabbed a blackberry between her finger and thumb and offered it up to Piper, who studied it for just a minute before she leaned forward to take it into her mouth.

  Rilla laughed. “Good thing I pulled back my fingers fast enough. You nearly took them off.” She winked at Piper. “Are you sure you’re not a shark?”

  My daughter giggled. “No, I’m a cowgirl. But Gin almost bit my finger today when I gave him some sugar. But he didn’t.” She held up both hands, with all digits intact, and this time I laughed, too.

  “Okay, cowgirl princess. Time to hit the road. Nan’s going to be waiting to see you, and I need to get to the club before Rocky thinks I’ve deserted him.” I moved her to the other arm and flexed the one that had been holding her for too long. It was stiff and tingling. “Rilla, it was good to meet you. I’ll see you next week at The Road Block?”

  She nodded. “Would Wednesday work? That’ll give you time to look everything over.”

  “Yeah, it’s great.” I backed away and head for the truck. Meghan was still at the register, ringing up a man who looked like he’d bought out all their peaches. She shot me a wry look and a quick nod as I passed her.

  Piper was quiet in the backseat of the truck until we were nearly back in town. Then she spoke up.

  “That girl was pretty, Daddy.”

  “Who’s that, princess?” My mind was already at the club, thinking about what I needed to accomplish before we opened the doors tonight.

  “The berry lady. She had nice hair and big eyes.”

  “Oh, that’s Miss Rilla, honey. Yeah, she seems cool.”

  “I liked her. Can we go see her again?”

  “What? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe. She might come work for Daddy, and then ... I don’t know. We’ll see.” I wasn’t completely convinced the bar needed an
y PR, and even if it did, I wasn’t sure that having the little blonde mouse work for me was a good move.

  “You should. She could work for you and bring me berries all the time.” There was a finality in my daughter’s voice that I’d learned from hard experience not to argue against.

  “Yeah, we’ll see, honey. We’ll see.”

  THERE WAS NO WAY on God’s green earth that my father would’ve stood for me setting foot inside The Road Block. The very idea was laughable. I reminded myself of that fact for the rest of Saturday afternoon, as I smiled to customers, sold fruit and vegetables and helped Meghan close up. We were just turning the key in the lock that secured the rolling fourth wall when I heard a deep voice call out.

  “Sell all my vegetables today, ladies?”

  I glanced up at Sam, smiling as he came up behind Meghan and caught her in a tight hug. I tried not to stare at the two of them, but I couldn’t miss the way his hand spread over her stomach as his arms wrapped around her, or the look on her face as she reached over her shoulder to caress the back of his neck. Seeing them together gave me a tight feeling in my chest, a kind of yearning for something I didn’t even know I wanted.

  “It was crazy busy today.” Meghan slid the keys into the pocket of her jeans shorts. “Rilla and I didn’t have time to breathe.”

  “She has no one to blame but herself, for bringing in all those new customers.” Sam grinned at me. “How you doing, Rilla?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” It was an automatic, conditioned response, and I realized it came off a little brusque. I added, “A little tired. Meghan’s right. We were swamped today.”

  “Rilla had a visitor.” Meghan arched an eyebrow at her fiancé. “Mason and Piper stopped by.”

  “Oh, yeah? What do you think, Rilla? Did you pick up a new client?”

  “Maybe.” I dug into my purse and found my keys. “I’m not sure he liked me. And I’m not sure we’d be a good fit.”

  “Bull.” Meghan spoke the word with a tinge of fond impatience. “Rilla, you’re good at what you do. Sam, Ali and I are all impressed with what you’ve done at the stand. Why shouldn’t you be able to do the same for Mason?”

  “Because you guys have been patient with me. I know you let me do the promotion for the stand because you wanted to be nice, and I appreciate it. I think I’ve done a decent job. But this is a farm. A stand. It’s not that far out of my experience. But a bar? I’ve never been inside one. I wouldn’t even begin to know how to publicize it.”

  “I thought you already did some preliminary work. Didn’t you have information to give Mason today? I saw that he had a folder when he left.”

  “I did.” I twisted the strap to my purse between my hands. “I thought ... but then I met him. I think his expectations might be beyond what I can do.”

  “I didn’t get the impression that Mason had expectations.” Sam rested his chin on top of Meghan’s red hair.

  “Which is probably because he doesn’t really need my services. He’s only thinking about it as a favor to you.”

  “Whoa.” Sam stepped back from Meghan and held up one hand. “Yeah, I told Mason about you and said he should check out what you could do for his business. But I didn’t twist his arm, and I wouldn’t have suggested you if I didn’t think you had it in you to do the job.” He softened his words with a smile. “Rilla, I’m always willing to help, but I’m not going to lie about anyone to do it. When I gave your name to Mason, it was because I believed it would be a good fit for both of you.”

  I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. You don’t know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, both of you and Ali, too. Maybe I’m just scared.” I didn’t know I was going to say those words until I did, but as they tumbled from my mouth, I realized they were true.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Meghan stepped forward and hugged me tight. “It’s okay to be scared. You’re doing so many new things, it’s only natural you’d be a little nervous. But you got this.”

  “Yeah, you do.” Sam echoed her words and then paused. I sensed he wanted to say more. “Rilla, is everything all right at home? I don’t want to pry, and it’s none of my business, unless you need our help. Then I’ll make it our business.”

  I swallowed over the lump that had suddenly risen in my throat. “Thank you. But no, everything’s fine. I know ...” I tried to think of the best way to explain my family to these two people who I truly liked. “My dad’s a hard man in some ways. He’s always been very strict with me, protective of me. I realize it must seem weird to you, like I’m some hick who doesn’t know anything because of how I was raised. But he’s really a good man. He just wants what’s best for me.”

  “Of course he does.” Meghan squeezed my shoulders. “Sam and I do, too. We want you to know that if you need anything, we’re here for you. Sometimes it’s hard for parents to know when to let go, and we don’t want to disappoint them. But Rilla, you’re twenty-two. You have a college degree, and now you have a job. Two of them, actually. It’s okay for you to think about moving on with your life, leaving home even. It doesn’t make you a bad daughter for thinking about it.”

  “I know. I mean, I try to tell myself that. When I’m here at the stand, I can think of all the possibilities. But when I’m at home, it feels like the only two choices are obedience or sin. There’s no middle ground. I either do what my father wants, or I’m disrespectful.”

  Meghan nodded. “You’re the only person who can make the decision about what’s right for you, Rilla. Sam and I are here to help. But you’ve got to live with the consequences. You’re the only one who can decide if having your own life is worth maybe not doing everything your father sees as necessary and right.”

  Her words echoed in my brain as I drove toward home. The sun was setting, and after the long and busy day, I should’ve been exhausted, but the restlessness in my spirit rebelled against going directly home.

  I’m twenty-two. Is it so wrong to want just the freedom to go for a ride after work, without worrying that my father’ll freak out?

  When I pulled up to the stop sign where I had to make the turn for our farm, that restlessness took over, and instead of going left, I swung the steering wheel right and headed in the opposite direction. I had no idea where I was headed, only that it was some place that wasn’t home.

  The road was empty for the first few miles, and I relished the freedom of just driving. I rolled down the windows, grateful that Gram’s sedan had electric controls instead of the manual cranks in the old farm truck I usually drove, and let the wind blow into my face and my hair.

  I rounded a bend, taking it maybe just a little too fast. As I put on the brakes to get the car back under control, I saw a large building ahead on the left. Bright neon lights shone from the sign on the side, and the parking lot that surrounded it was filled with cars. In the opposite direction that I was going, a line of vehicles waited to get into the lot. When I drove a little closer, I could make out what the sign spelled out: The Road Block.

  My heart pounded a little faster. So this was Mason Wallace’s bar. I had to admit that it was not what I’d expected; in my mind, a bar was small and dark, where desperate men and loose women gathered to drink away their money. This place was huge and out in the middle of nowhere, though apparently that didn’t stop everyone in three counties from showing up. Or so it seemed. I slowed a little more as I drew up next to the club. A man in an orange reflective vest was directing traffic, and when he spotted me, he pointed to my car and then into the driveway. I shook my head to tell him I wasn’t going in, but whether he couldn’t see me or didn’t understand, he only pointed with more vigor.

  I sighed in exasperation and followed his direction, thinking I’d just turn around once I got in. That was easier said than done: the car in front of me inched along, looking for a spot, and another one closed in behind me. I didn’t have any choice but to keep going.

  People wandered from their cars toward the front door of t
he building. I tried not to stare at the girls, some of whom were dressed in shorter, tighter skirts than I’d ever seen. Others wore jeans with rips in the knees and shirts that barely covered the essentials.

  The men wore more clothes at least. I spotted quite a few in cowboy hats, and most of them were in jeans and T-shirts. I thought about Mason that afternoon, his shirt soaked from where his daughter had been sleeping on him. I wondered if he were somewhere in that building, serving drinks or supervising whatever else went on in there. Something with music, no doubt, since I could hear it all the way out here. It didn’t sound anything like the praise music we sang in church or the hymns Grams and Dad played on the radio. Still, my foot began tapping to the rhythm as though it had a mind of its own.

  A loud thump drew my attention back to the front of my car. A girl passing by had stumbled and caught herself by landing on my hood. She giggled as she laid there, her straw hat askew. The man behind her leaned over, grasping her by the shoulders. Before he pulled her up, I saw his hand wander down to her backside, which was only just covered by a denim skirt. His fingers flexed, and the girl rolled so that now she lay on her back. The car ahead of me had moved quite a bit, and behind me, a truck honked its horn.

  The man glanced up, waved at whoever was in the truck and then hoisted the girl to her feet. He slung an arm around her shoulders and led her in the direction of the club.

  I watched them go as I gave the car just enough gas to catch up with the line of traffic. The girl looked up at her boyfriend—well, I assumed he was her boyfriend—and he bent his head to kiss her forehead.

  In the back of my mind, I heard my father’s voice, mingled with that of Pastor Shand. Sodom and Gomorrah. Sinners. And yet ... yeah, I wasn’t thrilled that the girl had landed on the hood of my car and that I’d had to see her boyfriend grope her, but they didn’t look like sinners. They looked like I’d always imagined two people in love. When I tried to picture myself in the girl's place, though, I didn't see Jonathan or any other guy from my church. Maybe it was the fact that I was driving through his parking lot, but all I could see was Mason walking with me, holding my hand, leaning to kiss the top of my head. . .