by Ruth Langan
“Tell him I’ll be there within the hour. What’s the status of our linen service?”
“The head of housekeeping reports that since your discussion with Mr. Cormeyer, the deliveries have been on time, and the drivers are being extremely courteous.”
“Thank you, Daniel. That’s good news.” She made her way to her inner office and settled herself behind her desk. As she began the task of returning phone calls and sorting through the mail, she found herself thinking about what Drew had said. It was true that she’d allowed this job to take over her life. But she shouldn’t have to apologize for that. After all, she loved her work. Loved working with friendly, fascinating people. Loved the challenge of taking something that was failing, and turning it into a success. She even enjoyed the demanding routine. The mail, the messages, the long lists of things to get done. She was a person who loved making lists, and then checking off items as they were completed. It made her feel productive. She wouldn’t know how to live without the demands of a satisfying career.
Still, how long had it been since she’d taken a day off to do nothing more than browse through an antique shop, or sit at a sidewalk café in town and linger over a sinfully rich dessert?
She gave a huff of breath. What foolishness. There was a time to work and a time to play. Right now, she had to remain focused on the job at hand. She finished her paperwork, glanced at her watch and shoved away from her desk.
In the outer office she called, “Daniel, if you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen conferring with Marcus.”
She decided to take a shortcut through the courtyard. It was such a pretty day. Not a cloud in the sky to mar the sunshine. Just the slightest breeze, carrying the perfume of flowers. One of the staff was watering all the carefully tended flower beds. They glistened like pretty jewels in the sunlight.
In the kitchens she watched as the head chef studied a faxed list of prices from a food wholesaler and checked off the items he wanted to order. He looked up when she approached. “Good morning, Ms. Sullivan.”
“Good morning, Marcus. You wanted to talk to me about some changes in the menu?”
He nodded and set aside his paperwork. “The summer produce is reaching its peak. This morning at the farmer’s market I was able to get a good price on tomatoes and garden greens, so I’ll be offering some special salads for the next few weeks.”
“That’s fine.” Celeste knew the value of a good chef, and Marcus was one of the best. He took his job as seriously as she did. In fact, several mornings each week he stopped at the local farmer’s market before planning the chef’s specials for the week. “But you know you don’t need my permission to plan your menu.”
“I know that. But I wanted to ask you how you enjoyed your meal last night, since it was something I’ve never offered on the menu. Drew Hampton told me the sweet-and-sour chicken and Moo Goo Gai Pan are favorites of yours. I’d like to know how they measured up.”
She flushed, realizing she’d barely taken the time to taste anything before wolfing it down. Still, it had been marvelous. “Marcus, I assure you they were as good as any I’ve eaten anywhere in the world.”
The chef beamed. “Then with your permission, I’d like to consider adding them to the menu from time to time.”
She nodded. “Why don’t you give it a try and see how those selections go over with our guests?”
“Thanks. I will.” The man was positively beaming. After all, food was his life. He took such pride in his work. And treasured every compliment. “By the way, if you get into Liberty later, you might want to check out the farmer’s market yourself. They have some flowers that would be dazzling in the courtyard.”
“Flowers?”
“Giant pots of begonias that would look great in that area shaded by the umbrella tables.”
She wasn’t surprised that an artist like Marcus would have an eye for such beauty. But she was pleased that his sense of pride extended to other areas besides the kitchen. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll take the time to check them out.”
As she walked away it occurred to her that, though she hadn’t planned on giving up an hour of her precious time, it wouldn’t be wasted. She would visit the farmer’s market, pick up the flowers and be back before lunch.
Drew wandered the town, determined to stay away from the Old Liberty Tavern for the entire day. He needed some space. Needed to put some distance between himself and Celeste.
What was he going to do about her? Had he really thought that seeing her again would somehow end this ache in his heart? Maybe he’d foolishly believed that things would be different between them now that they’d had some time apart. He’d hoped that he would be able to look at her and see nothing more than a sharp, savvy businesswoman who had no time for anything except the pursuit of the next prize. But nothing had changed. Whenever he looked at her, he wanted her. Maybe it was because they were so alike. Or maybe he was still that little boy, wanting what he couldn’t have. But he suspected it went much deeper. Time and distance hadn’t put an end to the yearning. From the time they’d first met, he’d sensed that they were a perfect fit. Seeing her again made her even more aware of it.
He paused outside a gift shop and studied the display of antique cars alongside a poster of the Grand Prix. He found himself wishing Celeste could see it. It would be the perfect addition to the coffee shop, behind the cash register.
As he moved along the sidewalk he realized that behind this sleepy small-town facade was a lively, bustling town just filled with fascinating shops, cozy restaurants, interesting galleries. As he ambled farther along the street, he decided that before he left, he would acquaint himself with every one of them. It would, after all, add another dimension to his report.
“Here you go, miss.” A deeply-tanned farmer in plaid shirt and overalls handed Celeste a basket as she made her way through the stalls of colorful flowers and foliage. She looped the handle of the basket over her arm and breathed deeply, feeling like a child in a toy shop. The air was perfumed with the fragrance of hundreds of blossoms. If she could, she would buy all of them and surround herself with their beauty. She had an absolute weakness for flowers.
“I’m looking for the begonias.”
“Over here, miss.” The farmer’s wife led her along row after row of flowers in every imaginable hue. Petunias ranging in color from deepest purple to palest pink. Dark burgundy spikes and dull-gold primroses. Bloodred climbing roses. Delicate white baby’s breath.
“Here you are, miss. There’s a lot to choose from.”
Celeste caught her breath at the jewel tones of the rose-shaped blossoms and glossy foliage massed in huge pottery urns. They’d been cleverly planted to show off the blooms in the best possible light, with a nice mix of color and texture, taller flowers and low hanging vines trailing to the ground. Marcus was right. These would be the perfect addition to the courtyard.
“Do you think you could deliver these to the Old Liberty Tavern?”
The old woman smiled. “That’s not a problem. How many would you like?”
Celeste mentally calculated, seeing them massed here and there for the best possible effect. “A dozen, I believe.” She withdrew a card from her purse.
The woman took her card and hurried away, returning minutes later with a receipt. “We can have them there within the hour, miss.”
“Thank you.” Celeste glanced at the empty basket on her arm. “Now maybe I’ll just walk through the cut flowers and see if anything catches my eye.”
She started toward a stall displaying hundreds of bouquets, picturing in her mind a bouquet in the foyer, another in the lobby, and a third in her office. Within minutes the basket was brimming with multi-colored Shasta daisies, white and yellow roses, and delicate baby’s breath. She was reaching over to help herself to half a dozen vines of trailing ivy when she heard a voice.
“Well, if you aren’t a sight.”
She looked up to find Drew walking toward her. In his hand was a bouquet of long-stemmed red rose
s.
“Drew.” She could feel warmth rushing to her cheeks. “I didn’t expect to see you at a farmer’s market.”
“I might say the same for you.” He glanced at the basket brimming with blossoms. “I know you’re dedicated to your job, but don’t tell me you actually choose all the flowers for your hotel each day.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I guess it looks that way. Actually I came here because Marcus, our chef, told me about some great planters. After ordering them for the courtyard, I just got carried away and decided to buy fresh flowers while I was here.” She stared pointedly at the roses in his hand. “It looks like you did, too.”
“Yeah.” He glanced down, then thrust them toward her. “I bought them for you. I know how much you love roses.”
“Oh, Drew.” She gathered them close and breathed in their fragrance. “They’re beautiful.”
“They don’t hold a candle to the woman who’s holding them.”
She was grateful for the arrival of the farmer’s wife at that moment. The presence of a stranger saved her from blubbering, or possibly throwing her arms around his neck and making a complete fool of herself.
The old woman eyed the mass of flowers. “Would you like me to have these sent to the tavern along with the rest of your delivery?”
Celeste had to resist the foolish desire to cling to the roses. How long had it been since a man had given her flowers? Too long. Probably not since Rome, when Drew had paused at a flower vendor and had filled her arms with roses. They’d walked through the rain-washed streets, laughing like fools, so wildly in love they didn’t care if the whole world knew it.
She looked up to find both Drew and the old woman staring at her.
“Yes.” She was aware of a catch in her voice, and hoped they didn’t notice. “That would be nice.” She handed over the roses, then slid the basket from her arm. “And these, as well.”
When the woman was gone she was aware that Drew was still watching her a little too carefully. To cover her embarrassment she gave a short laugh. “It looks like we both got carried away by the smell of all these flowers. But they won’t go to waste back at the tavern.”
“Don’t you know that beautiful things are never a waste? Or have you never heard the expression beauty is its own excuse for being?” He started along the path toward the entrance to the farmer’s market and turned to see her standing still, watching him.
He gave her a smile and waited until she caught up to him. “Did you drive here?”
“No. I walked.”
“So did I.” He turned. “Do you have to get back? Or can you spare some time?” He took advantage of her hesitation. “I passed a really interesting looking café with an outdoor patio. I’ll bet you didn’t take time for breakfast this morning. How about a quick lunch before you head back?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. But he had already tucked his arm through hers and was leading her along the sidewalk. What was the harm? she argued. It was a slow day at the tavern, with nothing requiring her absolute attention. Besides, the sun was shining. The air was perfumed with flowers. And her heart was feeling lighter than it had in ages.
“I think I could manage a half hour.”
Celeste polished off the last of her fresh seafood salad and sipped her second cup of tea. She and Drew had lingered for more than two hours at the pretty little outdoor café, watching the passing parade of people hurrying by with shopping bags and attaché cases.
“I like this town.” Drew sat back and stretched out his long legs, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. “There’s just a nice solid feel to it. Have you noticed?”
Celeste nodded. “I felt it the moment I got here. It’s strange.” She looked around at the clean street, the interesting array of buildings, some ancient, some modern, but all pleasing to the eye. “When I first got here, I felt as if I’d been here before.”
“I know what you mean. In some ways it’s probably like every other small town in the world. But there’s something unique here.”
“That’s it exactly.” It pleased her to know that he shared her feelings about the town. “I can’t put my finger on it yet, but I feel good just walking down the street. Which reminds me…” She glanced at her watch. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Before you go, there’s something I’d like to show you.” Drew paid their bill and took her arm.
They made their way along the main street, peeking into windows, pausing to admire displays.
“Oh.” Celeste suddenly caught his hand and led him across the street to a bakery. “Smell that.”
They stood outside the little shop and breathed in.
“Cinnamon.” Drew grinned. “You could never resist cinnamon.”
“And raisins. Look.” She pointed to a woman placing a tray of freshly baked cookies in the display window.
Celeste started inside, with Drew following. Minutes later they emerged with a sack of cookies.
Drew was laughing as she dug her hand into the bag and removed an oversized cinnamon-raisin oatmeal cookie.
She bit into it and closed her eyes. “Umm. Here.” She held it to his mouth until he took a bite.
“You realize, don’t you, that they saw you coming?” He was grinning at her. “They set that tray in the window to lure you in.”
“I know.” She took another bite and continued nibbling as she walked along beside him. “They probably even opened a window somewhere and fanned the air so I’d smell that cinnamon. But I don’t mind at all.” She sighed and reached into the bag for another. “Do you know how long it’s been since I tasted freshly baked cinnamon-raisin cookies?” She thought a minute then added, “I think probably eight or nine years ago, when my Grandma Sullivan baked them.”
“Didn’t you get the recipe?”
She laughed. “A lot of good that would do me. You know I never bother to cook or bake for myself.”
“Yeah. As I recall, you leave that up to your sister, Lizbeth.”
“Our little homemaker.” Celeste stopped and shot him a smile. “You’ve just given me a great idea. I know what I’ll ask her to send me for my birthday.”
They paused outside the shop he’d seen earlier. He pointed to the window display. “Isn’t that great? I love the contrast between the antique cars and the poster of last year’s Grand Prix.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “So do I. And I have the perfect spot to showcase it.”
“In the coffee shop behind the cash register.”
She turned to him with a look of astonishment. “How did you know I’d say that?”
He touched a finger to the tip of her nose. “Because we think alike.” He bent and brushed a featherlight kiss across her cheek. “And because it’s exactly what I thought when I first saw it. And I was fairly certain you’d agree.”
She absorbed the little jolt before turning away and starting into the shop, with Drew trailing behind.
Minutes later they emerged carrying the poster rolled into a cardboard tube tucked under Celeste’s arm, and the antique cars in a shopping bag which Drew carried.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Very.”
It was true, she realized. With nothing more than a simple lunch, a bag of cookies and a few trinkets, she was feeling more relaxed than she had in years.
How long had it been since she’d walked through a town and lingered in a shop or picked up something at the bakery? Too long, she realized. But, if she were going to be honest with herself, it was more than the sunny day or the pretty town. The reason for her joy was the man beside her. With Drew, everything seemed more. More relaxing. More pleasure at his simple teasing. More laughter.
“Ready to start back to the tavern?”
His words brought her out of her reverie. “Not really. How about you?”
Now where had that come from? It was completely out of character for her to say or do anything spontaneous. But just being here with Drew, feeling so gloriously f
ree, had done something to her brain. She suddenly wanted, more than anything in the world, to prolong the pleasure for a little while longer.
Drew stopped to look at her before giving a casual shrug of his shoulders. “My time is your time, Ms. Sullivan. What did you have in mind?”
She couldn’t hold back the laughter that erupted. “Oh, Drew, that’s such a leading question, I’m tempted to say something that would have us both blushing. However…” She swallowed back the smile that played at the corner of her lips. “…what I have in mind is exploring a few more shops, and maybe enjoying dinner here in town.”
If he was surprised, he kept his feelings to himself. “What about your work?”
She touched a hand to her purse. “My phone hasn’t rung once, which tells me that so far we’ve dodged any crises. Who knows? Maybe we can even get through the afternoon without a single interruption.”
“Okay, Ms. Sullivan.” He smiled and caught her hand in his before pointing to a row of shops across the street. “Time’s a-wasting. Let’s get started.”
Chapter 6
The sun hovered just behind the church spire, shooting brilliant red and bronze sparks across the roofs of the houses below. For a few brief moments the streets appeared to be paved with gold. Then the sun dipped lower, casting the town of Liberty in pale lavender shadows.
Celeste and Drew sat watching the spectacular sunset from their position in the cozy alcove of a little Italian restaurant. On a shelf nearby stood an array of shopping bags and parcels, giving testimony to a day spent browsing every store and gallery in the town.
A waiter poured two glasses of red wine, then discreetly disappeared, leaving them sitting side by side.
Drew gave her an admiring look. “You really know how to shop, lady.”
She smiled. “You’re not half bad yourself. I love the little copper frog. What are you going to do with him?”
“I have the perfect spot for him.” He paused. Sipped. “I thought you could put him on that little pedestal shelf you picked up in the gallery.”
