by Joan Kilby
She worried her thumbnail with her index finger. What were they doing? Metaphorically, that is. Against all known laws of the dating game, this incredibly handsome guy seemed to want her. Unless he was just playing with her, amusing himself by seeing how hot and bothered he could make her.
No, he wasn’t like that. She felt instinctively that beneath that slick exterior he was a good man who cared about other people’s feelings. But that wouldn’t stop him from leaving when the time came. No doubt he would feel bad about her broken heart as he drove out of town. But drive away he would, out of her life and back into his own.
“Turn right here,” she said. “On Sweet Street.”
“Sweet Street,” Alex said sharply. “Is this where your house is?”
“I know it’s an odd name. There used to be a confectionary on the corner.”
“Someone mentioned this street to me this morning, and a house for sale.” He turned the corner. “An older woman with crazy hair and wild clothes—”
There was only one woman in Cherry Lake who answered to that description. “Aunt Pan.”
“That’s her. Strange old bird.”
Emma felt a shiver thrill through her, making her scalp stand on end. “She’s a town institution. And a close friend of Nate Jackson. They say she has second sight. She knows things.”
“Second sight?” Alex looked over at her, one black eyebrow arched. “You don’t really believe in that bunk?”
“Why not? Not everything can be explained through science.” She motioned for him to pull over. “Right here, where the realty sign is on the front lawn.”
The sun broke through the clouds just then, shedding glorious rays of golden sunshine. Against the dark background of the distant mountains, the house seemed to glow. Emma bit her lip, tamping down a smile and a surge of optimism. Things happened when Aunt Pan was around. Good things, usually. Unexpected things.
*
Alex followed Emma through the gate in the picket fence. He should stop kissing her. It wasn’t smart. And it wasn’t considerate when he’d be leaving in a week. What was it exactly that attracted him to her? She wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense. Nor did she have the polished urban corporate style of the women he usually went out with. But there was something about her that kept him coming back…
By the rapturous look on her face when she went through the front door, she wanted this house more than anything in the world. No doubt she also wanted the picture perfect family to go with it—loving husband, the two point three children, and of course, a dog. Probably wanted chickens, too. For someone who came from a broken home herself, she should know better than to think she could have it all.
He’d quickly got the message that she didn’t want to discuss any problems the house might have because she’d already made up her mind to buy it. She walked around with a dreamy expression as if reliving her childhood, stroking the Formica kitchen counters as if they were the finest marble and gazing at the walk-in pantry shelves as if seeing rows of home canning her grandmother had put up from her homegrown vegetables. Emma, by her own admission, had neither the skill nor inclination to do that herself.
For a practical person she had an awfully big romantic streak, seeing the house through rose-colored glasses. Meanwhile, he saw the rot in the floorboards beneath the linoleum and heard the knock in the pipes when he turned the tap on in the bathroom. The house had good bones and spacious rooms but it needed work.
Alex left her to the pantry and wandered into the living room, grudgingly acknowledging the appeal of the Craftsman-style window seat and the river stone fireplace.
“There you are,” she said entering the room. The sunlight streaming through the windows picked out the many shades of red in her hair from gold to copper to deep auburn. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Mmm. Pretty hefty price tag for an old house.”
“It’s heritage listed. And it’s right in town on a big lot. I’m going upstairs.” In the central hallway between the living room and the dining room was a staircase. Grasping the big round wooden newel post she ran lightly up the stairs.
She was…real, he supposed was the best way to describe her. No makeup to hide her freckles or enhance her burnt caramel-colored lashes. No collagen—her lips were naturally ripe and plump. No implants—her breasts were average sized but as he now knew, firm and nicely shaped. No artificial coloring streaked her naturally red hair woven with strands of honey and amber.
She was real inside, too. No hidden agenda, no manipulation, no feminine wiles. With Emma, what you saw was what you got. She thought she was keeping him at bay with her snarky remarks but she couldn’t hide the way her face lit up when she saw him. It gave him a glow inside that he never got from all the flattery of his former girlfriends.
That made Emma a sitting duck for a man like him. All he had to do was kiss her and she opened like a flower reaching for the sun. She had no barriers, no filters. When she couldn’t handle the building sexuality she simply ran away. She should just tell him “no” the next time he tried to kiss her.
She’d kissed him the first time, he reminded himself. And then she’d immediately tried to pass it off as a joke. So transparent. He didn’t want to hurt her. Just thinking that made him sound like an egotistical asshole. As if he were so irresistible.
He wondered about himself sometimes. What kind of man went through women as fast as he did? Not a very nice man. Not the kind of man he’d like to be. What was wrong with him that he never fell in love? His idea of a long term relationship was six months.
True, he’d been very focused on his career this past decade but now that he’d made partner and seemed set, he still felt…restless. As if finally getting what he wanted wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t. To own his own company, that was the next step. Where a wife and family would fit into that scenario he wasn’t sure. Any of the women he dated had their own five and ten year career plans. He chose them for that very reason.
He completed his inspection of the living room. Aside from the peeling wallpaper and worn carpet it seemed structurally sound. Climbing the stairs he went in search of Emma. He found her on the third floor in a steeply gabled attic room, sitting on the dusty floor in a beam of sunshine, legs crossed as if meditating.
She glanced up at him, a beatific smile on her face. “This was my room. I had a collection of dinosaurs and horses that lived in the narrow space beneath the roof along the wall. My dad used to play battles with me. He’d be the dinosaurs and I’d be the horses.”
“Doesn’t sound like a very even fight to me.”
“Oh, but horses are faster than dinosaurs. And smarter. At least in my world.”
Buying a house for emotional reasons wasn’t very smart—in his world. “This house is a dinosaur. There are plenty of others for sale to choose from. While I was waiting for you outside the realty office I saw a listing for a five-year-old, two bedroom bungalow in a new subdivision.”
“I don’t want just any house. It has to be this one.”
He lowered himself to the floor, trying not to think about what the dust would do to his one pair of long pants. Resting an elbow on one cocked knee, he reached for her hand. “I don’t know much about building construction but I grew up in an old house myself. I know the problems that can arise.”
As the ‘man of the house’ he’d learned how to do minor repairs. Then had to watch as parts of the house he couldn’t fix crumbled around them because his mother couldn’t afford a tradesman. Eventually Harry Chernoff had come along but he didn’t know how to wield a hammer. “A lot of work and money will be needed to get this place up to scratch.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I know that.” To his dismay a film of moisture glazed her luminous green eyes. She dashed it away with the heel of her hand. “I don’t expect it to be perfect right away. But it’s livable and that’s good enough for me.”
“Don’t you live in Missoula? You’ll have to commute.”
“I alr
eady drive all over the state for my work. Anyway, pest management isn’t part of my long term plan.”
So she did have one of those. He felt a rush of relief. She wasn’t so different from other women he dated. She probably didn’t give a damn if he was staying in Cherry Lake or not. That was his own ego talking. “What is it?”
“I want to set up my own consultancy for sustainable agriculture. I plan to help farmers and livestock producers adjust to changes in climate and water supply as a result of global warming.” Her voice trembled with a fervor he hadn’t heard from her before. “We can get away from using chemicals to grow crops. We can explore new, more efficient ways of production that don’t destroy the environment.” She broke off. “You probably think I sound like a tree-hugging, radical nut bag.”
“Not at all.” In fact, he was full of admiration. Her eyes glowed with intelligence and the passion in her voice as she spoke about her cause revealed another side to her. She might be unsophisticated in appearance but there was nothing unsophisticated about her dream to make the world a better place.
He’d had a dream once, to help small business owners market products they’d created with their own hands and believed in with a passion. Instead he’d ended up in the city, a corporate player working for multinationals, becoming cynical and mercenary. He sold consumer items to people who were into want, not need. He sold the sizzle, not the steak.
“Cherry Lake is the little corner of the planet I call home. I want to contribute to its future, to put my money where my mouth is,” Emma went on. “Why buy a new house and add to the demand on resources when there’s a perfectly good house sitting right here?”
There were all sorts of reasons why it was good to stimulate the economy but she had her own set of values. He liked that she was independent, knew what she wanted and was confident about her ability to get it. Best of all, perhaps, she didn’t need him. That thought shouldn’t prick and he wouldn’t let it.
“Sounds like you’re determined to go ahead no matter what I say about dry rot and broken roof tiles.”
“I appreciate your comments but no, I’m doing this. Buying might delay starting my consultancy for a few years but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
He was still holding her hand, playing with her fingers. Honest, plain fingers, capable but sensitive. “What if your future husband doesn’t like this house?”
“I’ll let him decorate. Save me looking at paint samples,” she said smiling. “I’m not putting my life on hold waiting for a husband. I’m going after what I want now.”
“Good for you.” He got to his feet and dusted off his jeans. Then reached a hand to help her up. Instead of taking it she unfolded from crossed legs to a standing position aided only by her strength and remarkable balance, not even a hand out to push herself up. “Impressive. Nice to know I’m not needed.”
A note of wistfulness somehow crept into his voice. She glanced at him swiftly and he looked away. Damn. He didn’t often betray any weakness. Didn’t have weakness, period. Had being rebuffed by his father dragged some long ago insecurity to the surface? Or was there something about Emma that made him want to open up?
He checked his watch. “I’ve got some work I need to attend to. I’ll take you back to the motel so you can pick up your car.”
“I thought you were on vacation.” She went ahead of him down the stairs.
He’d made a promise to himself not to even look at his email while he was gone. But suddenly he craved the familiar tasks that usually made up his day, the sense of completion he got when they were done, of knowing he had a talent that only he could bring to marketing strategies.
“A partner’s work is never done.” His footsteps echoed on the uncarpeted stairs. If he lived here that would be the first improvement he would make to the house.
“I’m supposed to be appliquéing tea towels for my mom’s stall.” Emma made a face. “But I think I’ll head up to the Jacksons’ and see if they need any help with the cherries.”
He faced her in the small entry hall where stained glass shed diamonds of colored light on the scarred hardwood floor. Now that they were shortly to part ways he was reluctant to leave. “Let me know if the picking has started again. I’ll come up.”
“Okay, but they’ll probably wait until tomorrow.” She opened the door and stepped onto the porch, waiting till he was out before taking one last look inside. Then she closed and locked the door. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“I enjoyed it. I hope your offer is accepted.” He let her go first down the steps onto the path. “Do you want to meet for dinner later and show me what culinary delights Cherry Lake has to offer?”
“I would but I really should spend time with my mom and sister. I’ve hardly seen them since I’ve been back.” She went out the gate onto the sidewalk. “Although I was wondering….”
“The answer is yes.”
She laughed, wrinkling her nose. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“Don’t care. I’m free as a bird here in Cherry Lake.” He spread his arms. “At your disposal.”
“What about your father? Aren’t you going to see him?”
Alex’s smile faded and he dropped his arms, wishing she hadn’t brought him up. “I’ve been in touch. Things will happen in good time. So, what can I do for you?”
“Okay, well…” She fidgeted with the end of one braid. “There’s a dance on Saturday night for the festival. I was wondering… I need a date. Would you like to go with me?”
“I’d like that very much.” He opened the car door for her then touched her shoulder. “Could you do something for me?”
“Sure. What?”
He leaned in, brushed back a strand of hair and spoke directly into her ear. “Wear your hair loose. I’d love to see it flowing down your back.”
Her cheeks turned a delicious shade of pink and her sparkling eyes set his blood fizzing. “Okay.”
Chapter Seven
‡
“These look so good. I’m going to buy a jar of each.” Emma sat at Linda’s kitchen table, sticking labels onto bottles of jam, compote and liqueur as fast as Jodi could write them in her beautiful calligraphy. The glass jars of ruby-toned fruit lined up on the round oak table gleamed in the Jacksons’ sunny kitchen.
“I’ll set some aside for you.” Linda stirred a steaming stainless steel pot at the stove while Taylor got sterilized jars out of the dishwasher. “Don’t even think about paying. You’ve been such a help.”
Picking had resumed this morning. A few more backpackers had arrived looking for work so Will had sent Emma up to the kitchen. She enjoyed hanging out with the women and catching up on the town gossip but it meant she didn’t get to see Alex.
Maybe that was a good thing. When he’d whispered in her ear that he’d like to see her hair down she’d gotten tingles down her spine. But he lived and worked in Seattle and she was based in Montana. She wasn’t a believer in long distance relationships. Her mom had tried it with her dad for years—traveling to rodeos every few months—before finally giving up. Although her mom never said so, she suspected at least once she’d arrived to find her handsome husband shacked up with a buckle bunny. No thanks!
Robert wandered into the kitchen wearing the white business shirt and charcoal slacks he wore to the realty office. He kissed Linda on the cheek. “Any room for me to fry up a couple of eggs or is every burner taken with cherry jam?”
“No eggs for you!” Linda waved a wooden spoon at him. “I read the information sheet from the hospital that you hid in the bathroom drawer with those statins you don’t take. There’s quinoa muesli in the pantry and fresh fruit in the bowl. You’re a bad patient.”
“I’m not a patient. I’m fine,” Robert grumbled and got out the bread bag to put a couple of slices in the toaster. “Who can eat that mouse seed? Not me. Right, Emma?”
“Absolutely!” She cleared a corner of the table so he could sit down with his toast and coffe
e, biting her tongue to stop herself from asking if he’d had a chance to put in an offer on the house on her behalf. She didn’t want to pester him about it every five minutes although she knew she wouldn’t relax until she had it tied down.
A knock sounded at the back door. Jodi reached behind her and opened it, pen still poised in her other hand.
Alex stood on the doorstep. “Morning everyone. Linda, I’ve got a load of cherries. Will said to swing by the house and ask if you needed some.”
With more pickers, Will had put Alex in charge of driving the tractor down to the orchard to pick up the full bins and return them to the processing shed. Emma wondered if Alex knew what a vote of confidence that was in his abilities.
Robert gave Alex a curt nod. He picked up his plate and newspaper, muttering about too much commotion and he would finish his breakfast in his study. Everyone was too busy to pay much attention but Emma noticed. Was his disappearing as soon as Alex showed up a coincidence, or not? Alex noticed, too, though he pretended not to. A faint flush came to his cheeks. Why would Robert avoid Alex? Why would Alex care?
“Thanks, I could use another bushel,” Linda said. “Taylor, take that basket and fill it, please.”
As Alex followed Taylor out, he gave Emma a wink. She smiled and dropped her head, her cheeks warm with pleasure at the secret bond between the two of them. She had no doubt that Alex kissed women as easily as breathing and thought as little of it. Whereas to her a kiss was a big thing. She didn’t do it with just anyone, least of all the kind of man for whom it meant nothing.
And yet, she couldn’t help going over the kisses they’d shared for clues as to what he really thought about her. Couldn’t help but think ahead to the next kiss—and whether it would lead to more. How far was she prepared to let things go? She didn’t fall into bed with every guy who caught her eye, unlike Zoe, who loved sex and saw nothing wrong with enjoying herself. And more power to her. Would her infatuation lead to making love with Alex? The thought was thrilling and a bit scary.
