by Jenna Mindel
Hearing Monica talk about Zach wanting to convince her to give up her tea shop stabbed of betrayal. Was Zach’s offer to work for him about her abilities or the fact that he wanted to take over her retail space? All that talk about what her time was worth—had that been his way of figuring out a wage she couldn’t refuse? His comment about being a man on a date sounded awfully close to a man on a mission. Much too close.
She ran her fingertips over her bottom lip, remembering the sweet pressure of his kiss. The way he’d held her when they danced, as if she were dear to him. She’d felt cherished.
She glanced at her mother leaning against the kitchen sink with an unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth. “Keep that up and you’re not far behind Dad.”
Her mother shook out of the trance she’d been in and stared at Ginger as if she spoke a foreign language.
Ginger might as well be foreign and out of place in her childhood home. Her mother had never understood why she’d moved up north. “They’re going to tell Dad to stop smoking. And you should, too, so he doesn’t inhale it secondhand.”
“Oh, he’s not going to like that.”
“No, he won’t.” Ginger clenched her teeth.
Her mom whipped out a cheap lighter and sucked until the end caught and smoldered. Did she really want to go through this all over again? What was her dad’s life worth? “So are you going to quit?”
Her mom shrugged. “Not yet, and he ain’t home right now.”
Ginger ground her mouth shut before she said something she’d regret.
Her brother stumbled in, home from a party, and looked surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Ginger glanced at her mom, who kept smoking. “Didn’t you tell him what happened?”
Glen sobered up quick. “What? What happened?”
“I left three messages on your phone.” Their mom shook her head and walked out of the room.
Her brother narrowed his gaze on her. He resembled their mom with tight features and brown hair instead of red. “What’s with her?”
“Dad’s in the hospital. He had a mild heart attack and might need surgery. We’ll know more tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay.” Glen poured himself a glass of water, drank it down in one gulp then burped. “I’m going to bed.”
Nice. Her brother showed his usual deep concern, but Ginger nodded instead of scolding him. She was over it. No more pointing out that he still lived at home and blew his weekly salary on weekend parties. Peter Pan had nothing on her little brother. But if he wanted to run with the lost boys the rest of his life, there wasn’t much she could do about it.
Her mom must have also gone to her room because the house had quieted down. Growing up in the small three-bedroom ranch, heated mainly by the huge woodstove in the living room, Ginger had been surrounded by smoke and bad words. Settlers, all of them, never reaching out for something more.
How was she any different? So afraid to let go of what she knew. Too afraid to take a risk. Afraid of quitting one more thing because it might be hard to do.
She sat at the kitchen table and hung her head. “Please, Lord...”
She didn’t have better words to pray. So many thoughts ran through her head and anger blistered her soul. She hated coming home. Nothing ever changed. She was supposed to be a light to their world, but had failed miserably. Over and over, she let them get the better of her.
She hated the snippy sound that leaked into her voice every time she came home. She hated to hear about how uppity she’d become living in Maple Springs. Ginger wanted to knock their heads together and yell wake up!
But what good would that do? What good could she really do? It wasn’t easy digging for confidence when she felt like a failure in so many ways, especially around her family. Unless God wooed the heart, that organ remained stone cold.
She quieted her mind and asked God for strength and direction. Resting her head on her hands, she listened hard but heard nothing.
Then she closed her eyes and pictured Zach and his heart filled with icicles. The kiss they’d shared hadn’t been cold or numb. It had felt warm and sweet. And right.
Envisioning that crooked half smile of Zach’s made her heart pinch tight. What she wouldn’t give to feel his strong arms around her right now, promising her everything would be okay. That he’d never quit when it came to the two of them. That she’d always be appreciated. She wanted to feel special and...loved. Maybe someday, she’d risk enough to trust Zach with her failures.
And even her dreams.
“Wake up.”
Ginger jerked up with a start. Her neck hurt and her whole body felt stiff.
Glen laughed at her. “You’ve got a crease across your face.”
She stuck out her tongue and then rubbed her eyes. “Where’s Mom?”
“Getting ready. Did you sleep out here all night?”
“Good deduction, Sherlock.” Ginger stood and stretched, and immediately regretted her tone. “I’m sorry.”
Her brother showed he cared by pulling her into a headlock. It was his way of hugging. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She pinched his underarm to make him let go. “I’m going to shower. Are you coming with us?”
Her brother rubbed his armpit. “Yeah.”
And Ginger steeled herself for the family reunion about to take place in her father’s hospital room. “Great.”
“Don’t worry, I got your back,” her brother said.
And Ginger froze. Zach had once told her the same thing. A man of action, not flattery and words.
She challenged her brother. “Yeah?”
Glen looked away and laughed. “Nah, probably not. I’m driving, so you take Mom in your car.”
“Thanks.” That meant he wasn’t staying.
As soon as things got hairy or vocal, he’d split. It’s what Glen did. How was she any better? She’d moved away.
Two hours later, her brother did exactly that. Ginger looked over the insurance paperwork stacked in her lap and groaned. Could it be more complicated? Her father might be a bitter man, but right about now, he looked scared. He faced bypass surgery in the morning and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. No matter how much he ranted like a madman or swore at the nurses, he was going under the knife.
“You still got that store?”
“The Spice of Life?” Ginger sipped a cup of horrible hot chocolate, made a face and then tossed it. “Yep, it’s open.”
Her mother had gone outside for a smoke break, leaving her to deal with her father’s nasty mood alone.
He shook his head.
And Ginger’s hackles went up like always. “What?”
“Ain’t going to survive.”
Surly from a bad night’s sleep followed by a worse day, Ginger let her temper fly. “What do you know about it?”
“Economy’s no better, so who’s going to spend money on fancy tea?”
Who indeed? The past few years everyone felt the lack of downstate tourists coming up north to take vacations and spend their money. But that was turning around. Last summer had shown promise. This summer might be even better. If she won the contest, that statewide advertising would give her store exposure. Make it a destination for those already vacationing up north. Maybe even online sales would increase. And that would make a difference.
“See, you got no answer for that one.”
He knew more than she gave him credit for, but that didn’t mean she’d agree. “Things are improving.”
Her father snorted. “Pipe dreams. You’re not getting any younger.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You fold up shop, what are you going to do then? Who’s going to hire you with no degree?”
What is your time worth...
Z
ach wanted to hire her. But then what guarantees did she have for the future? She knew the challenges of running a business, especially one that depended on the fickle spending habits of tourists and summer residents. What if he got fed up with the headaches—she shook her head. She’d help with that, too.
“I’m not closing my tea shop.”
“Stubborn.” Her father said it in an insulting tone, but in his eyes she saw something she’d never seen before. There was a split second of pride shining in those cross brown eyes the same color as hers. Even some approval.
Something shifted inside her.
Maybe the one good thing she’d inherited from her earthly father was that stubbornness. Her father hadn’t quit truck driving. After all these years, despite the complaints, he’d stuck it out. Maybe he hadn’t settled. Maybe he’d sacrificed. For her.
She looked at her dad, seeing him for the first time in a different light. “Maybe I’ll learn to drive a truck.”
Her father looked surprised and then threw back his head and laughed. Hard.
“What’s so funny?” Her mother had returned.
Ginger laughed, too, until tears clouded her sight. “Nothing.”
Her father actually smiled. No, he beamed. “You wouldn’t understand, Mern.”
For the first time in her life, Ginger actually agreed with her father. Merna wouldn’t understand, because her mother had given up a long time ago. But her dad hadn’t, and he didn’t want her to, either.
* * *
Zach heard the slam of a door and knew Ginger was home. They’d talked on the phone after her father’s surgery went well and a full recovery was assured. Zach had offered to watch her store so she could stay longer, but Ginger was already on her way back. And she’d sounded eager to come home.
But that slam didn’t sound good...
The slider whooshed open and then her quick, hard footsteps stopped. “Why did you change the windows?”
He quit messing with the leftover blown hearts he arranged in a basket and faced her. One look at the fire in her eyes and he knew she either didn’t get the message or rejected what he’d tried to convey. Neither one sat well, so he stalled. “For the contest win.”
“But—” Her pretty mouth opened and closed. “You said you didn’t care about that contest. This is supposed to be my win.”
“It will be.”
“How so, if it’s all your work, like it’s all your store? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To take over my space.”
Where’d she hear that? “Eventually, yes.”
She looked roaring mad at his admission. “When were you going to tell me?”
Keeping his voice even, he said, “Eventually.”
She glared at him, her hair a mass of red curls that looked as if they hadn’t seen a brush in a day or two. Her face was scrubbed clean and void of makeup, and she still looked beautiful dressed in plain jeans and a sweatshirt. She even wore normal, clunky winter boots. “So that’s why you want me to work for you.”
He stepped toward her. “There’s a host of reasons why I want to work with you.”
She lifted her chin. “Name them.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “I’ll give you the main one. You’re wasting your talent selling a product you’re not passionate about.”
She openly gaped at him. “What are you talking about? I love tea.”
She drank it. She didn’t grow it, she didn’t even dry it or mix the flavors together. She bought someone else’s passion and pawned it off at a hiked-up price. Even her teapots were leftover inspiration from someone else. That was no way to live.
“I saw the look in your eyes after making that vase. You’re hooked and trust me, that’s all it takes.”
Her angry gaze narrowed. “You can’t push me into this.”
How was he doing that? He spread his hands in surrender. “I need an apprentice.”
“This is about my future.”
“It’s about us and—”
She cut him off. “I can’t just jump on a whim. I have a twelve-month lease—”
“You might be broke by then—”
“How do you know?” Her brown eyes flared hot and her voice rose.
“I saw the spreadsheets on your laptop—”
She huffed and puffed. “That’s none of your business!”
“It is when you’re paying me rent.” Things were spinning out of control fast, but he was at a loss to get things back on track.
“Fine. I’ll look for another place, then.” She took a step closer.
“Not when you’re bound to me for the next ten months,” Zach growled. He’d sue for breach of contract if it’d make a difference. If it’d make her stay. With him.
“That’s right, and like it or not, you have to honor that lease.” With hands on her hips, she yelled back but her eyes looked too bright and watery.
He reached for her. “Ginger—”
She slid away from his touch. “Don’t play me, Zach. I’m not for sale.”
That was a slap in the face. “I’m not your enemy.”
“No?” She gestured toward the windows and sneered. “Then what’s with the sneak attack?”
Now she pushed him. And all his buttons by questioning his integrity. “If you had half a brain, you’d figure it out!”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed into slits of fury. “Yeah, well, I didn’t get my college degree, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for—”
“I’m done with this.” He cut her off, before she cut him to the quick.
She sniffed. “Fine.”
“Good.”
Ginger turned and left, closing the slider hard and then throwing the lock behind her.
He clenched his hands into fists. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more, to shake sense into her or kiss her senseless. It didn’t matter. He knew how that sentence ended.
She wasn’t stupid enough to fall for him.
He looked at the windows and knew they were good. Once he’d flipped the switch on the spotlights that lit the glass as if from within, he knew just how good a job he’d done. Drivers heading down Main had slowed their cars to have a peek, and even people walking by had stopped and stared.
Ginger would get her contest win. He’d let her break the lease agreement early, too, if that’s what she wanted. Let her move and set up shop somewhere else if she was too stubborn to follow her heart.
Or accept his.
When he’d kissed Ginger, he’d experienced something special. No, something incredible, and he thought she had felt it, too. Their souls had twined into one, blending like those little teapots she had ordered. But moonlight and dancing had a way of mixing up emotions, and he was only just beginning to feel. Like a newborn colt on shaky legs, he might be trying to run before he could even walk.
Ginger had made herself perfectly clear. If she wasn’t stupid enough to fall for him, he should be smart enough to let her go.
Chapter Thirteen
Maintaining her distance from Zach hadn’t been that hard. He’d buried himself in hot work when he didn’t have customers to wait on. She remembered that he met with someone from the VA on Wednesday evenings, and Thursday he went out, too, but she didn’t know where. He didn’t tell her. In fact, he barely talked to her other than inane pleasantries that were so not him.
By Friday, Ginger wanted to scream. Her father’s behavior in the hospital made a lot more sense after the week she’d had. Winter tourists flooded Maple Springs because of the upcoming three-day weekend. And shoppers looking to spend flooded Zach’s studio, keeping him busy most of the morning.
Many had said the windows had coaxed them inside. Some even wanted tea, but most were interested in the twisted glass hearts and icicles for sale like those hanging
in the display. They wanted Zach’s work.
Maintaining her distance hadn’t been easy, either. She missed the way they’d been. Ginger had caught the harried look in Zach’s eyes several times as he waited on customers. He’d fumbled with gift wrap and growled at a couple of smart-mouthed tourists, but she stood her ground and ignored those terrible tugs on her heart to help him.
She would have helped, had Zach only asked. But he didn’t.
Their argument remained a silent wall neither one tried to cross over. So she stayed glued to her own shop with her nose deep in the finance program on her laptop. Looking over her shop’s historic trends, her future seemed pretty bleak.
She glanced at Zach’s window decorated with icy blue twisted hearts and clear glass icicles. It was beautiful but a chilly reminder of the season. And his cold heart. Why hadn’t he told her his plans? She would have appreciated some kind of hint. But he hadn’t said a word, not one. Not even when she’d given him February’s rent.
After a group of customers left, she spotted Zach heading toward his window. Snow fell softly outside. The postcard-perfect kind of snow that made everything fresh and pretty. She could hear laughter every now and then as people passed. Kids threw a snowball or two and lovers held hands.
Maple Springs was the place for lovers...
Her throat threatened to close up and choke her.
Zach stared at that snow. What was he thinking? His shoulders looked even broader when he folded his arms. Those strong arms had held her tight when she slipped. They’d held her close when they danced and circled her waist when he scared the book-man away.
Her heart twisted till it broke. She’d let him in and he’d hurt her.
He turned and caught her gaze. His eyes were cold, giving nothing away. The man had iron control.
Ginger’s stomach pitched when he walked toward her.
“I’m going to grab lunch. Do you want anything from across the street?”
Her throat tight, she managed a rough-sounding, “No, thank you.”
He looked at her a moment longer then left, locking the front entrance to his studio and flipping a note that he’d be back in a few minutes. He didn’t ask her to watch his store anymore, but he didn’t bother to close the slider, either.
