Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Andy cross the street. She leaned back, trying to get the view hole pointed in the right direction, trying to be sure it was him.

  Ralph Lauren suit, Cole Haan leather oxfords, Burberry tie, blond hair, easy stride, … it was definitely him. Andy was headed right for her. She frowned at the Burberry- Ralph Lauren mix. Maybe he had someone else choose his clothes, someone who didn’t know better. That deep blue pinstriped jacket, the mint green shirt and the dark gray plaid tie weren’t working. Then she rolled her eyes at herself. She really didn’t have any room to talk about who was fashionable or not.

  He must be headed home. She held still, hoping she wouldn’t attract his attention, although he would have to be blind not to see her there on the corner. He came within a few feet of her, hesitated, then stopped. She didn’t want him to say anything. She wanted him to go away.

  He cleared his throat and her heart dropped. She felt her breath catch. He knew. He must know it was her. The old, familiar humiliation washed over her. This was a snapshot of her whole life, compressed into one moment. Everything she ever wanted was so close, but impossibly far away. She was doomed to be the nerdy, fat girl for the rest of her life.

  Turning to face him, she braced herself for the humiliation. She’d thought she’d left it all behind her when she escaped Natchitoches, but like that old saying about taking the girl out of the country, you just couldn’t change what you were deep down. She could call herself anything she wanted, but Roxie was a sweaty, awkwardly dancing cupcake who was in love with a smart, kind man in a Ralph Lauren suit.

  ***

  Andy stopped in front of the cupcake. He’d been on his way to the bakery to see Roxie but he couldn’t pass by without any acknowledgment. He eyed the pink tights and tried to decide whether the legs belonged to the same woman he’d met before, then he remembered how creepy he’d looked last time and jerked his gaze up to the vent. He hoped the cupcake would cut him some slack. He wasn’t at his best lately.

  Andy’s whole day had been taken up with meetings and his brain felt fried. Having the biggest gaming company around was everything he’d ever wanted, but spending his life in a boardroom wasn’t what he’d envisioned for his future. He thought when ScreenStop outstripped its nearest competitor that he’d go back to designing and testing games, at least part time. That hadn’t happened, and he felt like he’d taken a wrong turn. Or ten wrong turns.

  He cleared his throat. Whatever he said, he hoped the cupcake wouldn’t think she’d picked up a groupie. Or a stalker.

  “Hi.”

  She waved.

  “Are you the same...”

  She held up three fingers and pointed down.

  He let out a laugh. “Third ring. That’s right.” He paused. “How’s the heat?”

  She gave a thumbs up.

  “Okay, because I can go get you another drink. No problem. I was just headed in the bakery to talk to someone.”

  She gave a dismissive wave.

  “All right.” He turned away and then stopped. It wasn’t enough to exchange chit chat. It didn’t honor the connection they’d made that hot afternoon almost a week ago. “You know, I think you were the first new friend I made in Natchitoches.”

  The cupcake didn’t move.

  “I mean, I have other friends here, but I don’t think I’d made any new friends since I moved. And I’ve actually made another friend, since then, so that makes two.” He sounded like he was socially inept. “I don’t have trouble making friends, really. It’s just this town is different… Anyway, I guess I wanted to say thank you.”

  She shook her body. No.

  “Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I know it does.” He laughed at himself and then sobered up. He was going to scare the woman with his declarations of friendship and crazy laughter. “It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I was always saying the wrong thing and I know that Southerners are the same as everyone else, but―”

  She moved both hands in a “time out” motion.

  “They’re not?”

  She shook her body from side to side.

  “You’re the first Southerner I’ve ever met who admitted that the culture down here can be a little confusing.”

  She held up her thumb and forefinger a few inches apart. A little.

  “I didn’t think it was legal to say that sort of thing about Natchitoches. It’s the most charming city in the nation. Or so I’ve been told.”

  The cupcake made the “blah blah” motion with both hands.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I love the ironwork on the buildings, and the beautiful old houses, and the… green. There’s a lot of green.”

  She fanned herself.

  “Yeah, the heat is brutal. Or is it the humidity? Anyway, sometimes I think without the perpetually sweaty weather, I might actually like this place,” he said. “And this’ll make me sound like a jerk, but this place really needs some good Thai food take-out. Or Indian. I miss curry. I don’t think I can live on collards greens and cornbread.”

  She mimed stirring a pot.

  “I can’t cook. I’ve tried. The woman next door must think I’m purposefully trying to set off the smoke alarm.” He thought of Roxie and their first conversation. He couldn’t help smiling over the memory of her deadpan complaint. “You know Roxie Hardy? Her grandmother owns the bakery. I’ve been trying to catch her at home, but a friend said she’s always over here.”

  The cupcake didn’t respond.

  “If you work here, you must have met her, right?”

  For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to respond but then she slowly put up one thumb.

  “Oh, good. Is she inside?”

  Another long pause. Then she gave a thumbs down.

  Andy sighed. Roxie was hard to find. Alice said she’d been down in the bookstore for several hours the day before, but he’d checked there twice since then and there wasn’t any sign of her. He’d stopped at the bakery two days ago but the waitress had told him Roxie wasn’t in yet. He was starting to think she was avoiding him, but after his “tall” comment, he didn’t really blame her.

  “Well, I guess I’ll stop by another day. Maybe you can tell her I was looking for her? If you don’t mind, I mean.”

  The cupcake seemed to be thinking about it. She gave the okay sign and waved. It was a small wave, as if she were sad to see him leave.

  He answered her wave then turned back toward the bookstore. It was strange that a few minutes ago he’d felt like his life was a dead end. Andy grimaced a little, remembering how depressed he’d been at the end of a day of meetings. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but no job was perfect. He’d helped build this company and this was the best way to serve it right now. Paul worked as hard, or harder, than Andy. It wasn’t right to dump all the meetings and financial oversight on him. They could never go back to the days of only testing games and programming. They had several floors of employees for that now.

  He inhaled the river breeze and thought he detected just a hint of fall weather. Change was inevitable. Everything evolved. He wasn’t happy with his schedule right now but he could work on changing it, as soon as they got settled in. Seeing the cupcake again made him realize that he spent a lot of time silently fuming.

  Pausing at the corner, he glanced back. He could still see her, shuffling awkwardly. The poor woman spent her days being manhandled by tourists for minimum wage and he’d been complaining about sitting in meetings with air conditioning, comfortable chairs, and good coffee. He had the power to rearrange whole departments, hire or fire whomever he wished, allocate company funds to new projects… and yet he was feeling sorry for himself.

  They stood a block apart and Andy experienced a moment of divine grace, obvious in a way that a person could only understand if it had happened to them. The confusion lifted and he saw himself clearly for the first time in years. It was only a glimpse, and yet his perspective flipped as neatly as someone turning a page in a book. He had power, mo
re power than most people could dream of having in their lifetime. There were very few things out of his reach. To stand around helpless was a slap in the face to the One who’d given him so much.

  Straightening up, he turned back to the bookstore. He’d wasted a lot of time being ungrateful but that was over now.

  He had plans to make, and work to do.

  Chapter Eight

  A home without books is a body without soul. ―Marcus Tullius Cicero

  “Bye,” Aurora called, waving from Alice’s arms. She looked like a mini version of Alice with her polka dotted skirt, red mary janes, and a T-shirt that said ‘Flannery O’Connor is my bestie’.

  Roxie couldn’t help but blow a little kiss. Aurora’s visit was the highlight of her morning. Alice had come in to pick up a few cupcakes for a book club meeting and Aurora had decided they were going to stay for a treat. Roxie could tell Alice wasn’t keen on feeding Aurora sweets, but it was hard to deny that baby anything. Those large dark eyes and softly curling hair were a heart-melting combination. “Come back soon, y’all.”

  “Soon,” Aurora repeated solemnly.

  Alice balanced the box of cupcakes in one hand and smiled over her shoulder at Roxie. “You have to join our book club. You’ll be our classicist in residence.”

  She didn’t respond, just shook her head and laughed as they went out the door. Alice was sweet to remember that Roxie studied the classics, but she couldn’t see herself joining the book club. She’d never fit in well with groups like that. She didn’t have time for socializing. The few hours she had to herself, she wanted to spend reading or working on her own projects.

  Roxie pushed a curl out of her eyes and went to greet new customers. The bakery was packed, which was a little unusual for a Friday afternoon, but she wasn’t going to complain. Anything that brought in the customers was a good thing, especially if she didn’t have to spend the day in the cupcake suit.

  She smiled at the pretty teenager and an older woman who looked so much like the teen, Roxie figured she was the mother. “Welcome to Sunshine Bakery. What can I get you two?”

  “A triple venti soy non-foam latte.” The girl barely looked up from her phone.

  “I’m sorry. We have coffee, decaf or regular,” Roxie said.

  The girl looked up and let out a bright laugh. “Stupid me. Regular. A triple venti soy non-foam latter could be decaf, you’re right. But I need the caffeine.”

  “No, we don’t have lattes. Only coffee. And it comes in decaf or regular.”

  The girl’s blue eyes went wide. “Just… coffee?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Roxie felt her pain. Just hearing the order had given her a stab of longing for a triple shot caramel macchiato. “I can bring some cream and sugar, if you’d like.”

  “Mama, uou said they had coffee.” The girl glared at her mother, as if she’d been tricked into getting breakfast at the Sunshine Café.

  Roxie waited for a few seconds to see if they had any other orders, but it was clear they weren’t going to hold off on their bickering. She tucked her pen into her ponytail and headed back to the counter. She’d been watching for Andy but hadn’t seen any sign of him. Her face went warm just remembering their last conversation. She hadn’t lied. Not really. He’d asked if she was inside the bakery, and she’d said no. Okay, she could have tried to remove the big foam head and talked face-to-face like an adult but then she would have had crazy hair and been all sweaty. Roxie told herself that several times, trying to believe her own excuse.

  Standing in front of the coffee machine, she let the sounds of the busy café fade into the background. Shame had kept her from telling Andy she was in the suit. Shame and embarrassment and that tiny little hope which refused to be snuffed out. From the moment Andy had brought her a sweet tea― or maybe it was the moment he’d mentioned Dante― Roxie’s heart had been lost to her.

  Roxie pushed the red button to start another pot and stood there watching the dark coffee dribble into the carafe. Her stomach rumbled at the smell. There wasn’t anything to eat in the bakery. Nothing for her, anyway. She needed protein and whole grains, not deep fried sugar and lard. As much as she wanted to binge on beignets, therein lay madness. She’d have to buy a whole new wardrobe in a week if she let herself eat like the rest of the city.

  She removed the coffee pot from the stand and wiped the sides with a cloth. Andy’s smoke alarm had gone off again that morning and she thought he might come by the bakery for breakfast, but she hadn’t seen any sign of him.

  “Hey, there.” A deep voice nearly made her drop the pot.

  She turned around, a smile already spreading over her face. She didn’t know why she was smiling but for the life of her, she couldn’t stop. Andy looked much like he had the last time they’d met, except his tie matched his dark blue suit. He didn’t return her smile.

  “Hey,” she said. “I was just thinking about you.”

  He perked up. “Oh?”

  “Just wondering what you were cooking at six this morning. I couldn’t tell by the smell.”

  “Fried eggs. They were taking forever so I just went to grab some papers and got distracted and…” His lips turned up. “Paul said it’s impossible to screw up fried eggs but he lied.”

  “Have you thought about hiring someone?”

  “To cook? I did. For the first few weeks.”

  Roxie waited. He clearly didn’t want to explain what happened. “Lots of neck bone soup?”

  “How did you know? Do know her? Nothing against Mrs. Johnson. She’s about the nicest person on the planet.”

  “Oh, no. Just a guess. You asked her to cook from a menu?”

  “Kind of. I gave her a few ideas. You know, just normal food. And somehow that turned into neck bone soup, chitlins, and beans with back fat.”

  “Sounds about right. Around here, they use every part of the pig but the squeal.”

  “Can I ask you a question? What is the fascination with grits, anyway?”

  “It’s a mystery, like most things here.”

  He dropped his voice and looked uncomfortable, as if making sure they were out of earshot of the afternoon crowd. “I’m not trying to be offensive, really.”

  Roxie wondered if he’d been holding in his complaints ever since he moved. Nobody liked a whiner, but sometimes it felt good to just be honest about not liking what was put in front of you. She certainly felt good listening to his list. She didn’t feel quite so alone.

  “I’m not offended. I know exactly what you’re going through. Philly had some of the best ethnic food around. I’d do anything for some pho soup right now.”

  “Pad thai, coconut soup, massaman curry, balsamic rice. I could eat it all and ask for more.”

  “Have you ever had Lebanese food? I miss stuffed grape leaves, roasted lamb, fried falafel.” She knew exactly how many miles she had to run after the fried falafel but every bite was worth it.

  “With some Syrian bread. What about Korean? Kimchi, japchae, dak galbi.”

  “I love dak galbi.” Roxie’s mouth was watering. She hardly ever let herself eat those dishes. Only once every few months or so, but she never forgot them. “I feel like we’re just torturing ourselves. I love Thai, but I think East Indian and African is my favorite. Do you like Ethiopian?”

  “Doro wat, inguday tibs, injera bread.” He nodded. “I bet it’s not that hard to cook. I should try to it. There should be recipes, right?”

  Reminiscing about great food was all good fun until someone burned down the building, and that someone would be Andy. Roxie didn’t know quite what to say.

  “Who am I kidding?” he said, slumping.

  “Why don’t you have it flown in?” She almost flinched at her own awkward question. Hello, I know you’re worth a bazillion dollars.

  “I could. But I met this guy when I first started in the tech industry. We were down in Silicon Valley and he was like a mentor, except not on my side.” He smiled a little at her expression. “I know, confusing. Basica
lly he taught me a lot while making sure I never succeeded anywhere near him. Paul and I got out of there pretty quick. Anyway, this guy had his favorite gelato flown in from Italy every few days.”

  Roxie looked around the little bakery, at the faded curtains and the mismatched chairs, at the young families enjoying cupcakes and the old people sipping coffee. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be so rich. And so arrogant.

  “Sometimes money isn’t the issue. It’s possible, sure. I just don’t want to be a jerk while getting a good meal,” he said.

  “You could bring in a cook? Someone who can make whatever you like.”

  “Alice thought of that, too.” He looked uncomfortable. “That’s a little more reasonable, but still. It’s one thing to hire a chef. It’s another to hire a chef and have him relocate to…” His voice trailed off.

  “The ends of the earth?”

  “Calypso’s island maybe.”

  “You’re reading the Odyssey now?”

  He nodded. “It’s research for a project. You got me thinking the other night, about Homer and the epic poems. Alice has a great collection of the old classics. Lot of different translations, too.”

  Roxie stood there grinning. So he referenced the Odyssey. No big deal. She should just get over it and say something else, something clever, but nothing occurred to her, so she simply lifted the coffee pot in his general direction. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Grabbing one of the mugs behind the counter, Roxie set it in front of him and filled it to the brim. He surely had his own coffee maker somewhere in that shiny big building across the river. He was here for a reason. She just wasn’t sure what it was. “You’re welcome to sit here or at one of the tables.”

  “Wherever it’s easiest for you. I was hoping to catch you sometime this week but I think we have opposite schedules. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Her stomach was turning in on itself. Now was the time to mention to tell him that he’d talked to her a few days ago.