by Leah Atwood
“Time to leave,” she told him after a few minutes more of play.
“Where are we going?” Stopping mid-zoom, Josh still held the blocks in the air.
“Remember I told you about the potluck at church tonight?”
He shook his head. “What’s a potluck?”
“Everyone brings something to eat and shares with everyone else.”
“Will there be cookies?” A hopeful smile appeared.
Lyndsey chuckled. “I imagine Mrs. Di will bring hers.”
“Yippee.” Cookies trumped toys, at least for today, and Josh discarded the blocks during his sprint to her. “I’m ready.”
Eyebrows raised, she looked at his white socks. “Put away your toys and then put your shoes on. Mommy will tie them for you.”
While Josh ran to his room, ignoring the toys, Lyndsey went to her bathroom to perform a quick application of makeup. She dabbed concealer on the dark circles of worry under her lackluster green eyes. Was that really her reflection? Where was her sparkle that Mark had loved so much? Would he be horrified to see his youthful bride was now a haggard mom just barely holding on? The stress from the last several years had aged her so that she looked a decade older than her thirty years.
But even the aged woman who stared back at her appeared too young to be a widow.
Some days she thought the first year after Mark’s death was easier to handle than what she felt now. That first year and into the second, shock and grief had left her numb. For Josh’s sake, she continued on, albeit in automatic motions, but in recent months, she was coming out of that coma and having to face the reality of life without her husband.
Part of coming back to life was feeling again, and the truth was—feelings hurt. More than anyone could imagine unless they’d been there. It was sharp pains that sliced through her at random times, and it was a constant ache that constricted her lungs until she couldn’t breathe.
“Found my shoes, Mommy.” Josh stood at the bathroom door, his dirty shoelaces a tangled mess. “I tried tying them myself.”
“I see that.” She blinked away the sullen thoughts, replacing them with a smile. Kneeling down, she undid the knots and tied Josh’s laces in a proper fashion. Before she stood, she kissed his cheek.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the church parking lot, dismayed to see people milling about. She’d hoped to make a quiet entry, not drawing attention to her empty hands, something she didn’t think would be a problem since they were late.
“Didn’t you say everyone’s s’posed to bring something?” Josh asked as she unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Yes.” She cringed, imagining where the questioning would lead.
“Then what did we bring?” He hopped from his seat then onto the ground.
“Nothing this time, sweetheart.” She bit her bottom lip, praying he wouldn’t launch into twenty questions.
His hand reached for hers, standard parking lot protocol. “Why not?”
“I just didn’t.”
“But you said we’re s’posed to, and you told me to always do things we’re s’posed to do.” Stopping his small stride, he looked at her for an answer.
She couldn’t negate four-year-old logic. “The oven broke, so I couldn’t cook anything and didn’t have time to make anything else. I’ll make two things next time.”
“Okay.” Satisfied, Josh smiled then suddenly jerked away, about to break into a run. “I see Damien.”
Lyndsey lurched out an arm to grab him, but he was too fast. “Joshua Devin Allen, get back here.”
“Whoa there.” Shep Patterson appeared from behind a vehicle and put his hands on Josh’s shoulders to stop the sprint.
Relief flooded through her that Shep had stopped Josh. Even in the church parking lot, people tended to drive too fast or back up without looking. She increased her pace, reaching her son in a matter of seconds.
“Thank you,” she told Shep.
Before she addressed Josh, she took two deep breaths. “You know better than to run off like that. Do you know what could have happened?”
Josh tucked his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“There will be no cookies for you tonight.”
“But I want one.” His eyes scrunched and arms crossed.
“Maybe you’ll remember that next time you run from me in the parking lot.”
“I want a cookie.” To Lyndsey’s embarrassment, Josh raised his foot and slammed it down in an ambitious stomp.
Right onto Shep’s boot.
Heat flood her face. “I’m so sorry.” She brought Josh in front of her, tightly gripping his shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged and flipped a hand. “My nephew’s around Josh’s age. I understand.”
“The tantrums just started a few weeks ago.” Keeping one hand on Josh’s shoulders, she ran the other through her hair until it caught on her ponytail. “Maybe I’m not paying enough attention to him.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing a great job with him.” Shep laid a hand on her shoulder. “Mark would be proud of you.”
“Thanks.” The beginning of a smile formed on Lyndsey’s face. Then she became all too aware of his touch, which made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t understand. She looked around the parking lot. “Guess we should get inside. Looks like everyone else already has.”
Shep lowered his hand to his side. “The parking lot cleared of people fast. They must be hungry.”
Twisting his small frame, Josh looked at Shep. “Mommy didn’t bring anything because the oven broke.”
“Shh,” Lyndsey started to hiss, then stopped. He’d done nothing wrong in telling Shep about her problem, and her own embarrassment didn’t warrant the sharp words.
“Need me to stop by and check it out?” Shep asked as they walked toward the church. “My last appointment for tomorrow cancelled, so I have the time.”
If only Shep hadn’t done all the work on her house since Mark and she bought it, it would be so much easier to find an excuse to say no. “There’s no rush. Maybe next week sometime.” Or next year when there’s more of a chance I can pay you.
“Plan on microwaving meals all week?” Shep raised a brow before offering a brief wink.
“No, it’s just that I hired someone else.” Her pride spit out the lie before she realized what she’d said.
“Oh.” Surprise and hurt registered in Shep’s crystalline blue eyes, but he blinked them away.
They reached the door, and Shep opened it for them.
“Go inside Josh, I’ll be right there.” She released her son’s hand and watched him until she saw Mrs. Tisdale lead him to a table. He’d be in good hands for the next few minutes.
Shep tilted his head, watching her with an unreadable expression, probably wondering why she wasn’t going in yet. Or why she’d hired someone else—which she hadn’t, nor would she. When it came to repairmen and contractors, Shep was the best around, in quality and trustworthiness. Not to mention, he was a good friend. Back in the day—before Mark and Miranda, Shep’s late wife, passed—they’d spent a lot of time together with their respective spouses. Double dates, summer cookouts, even a trip to the shore one year.
If nothing else, she owed him an apology. She glanced around, ensuring there was no one within hearing range. Taking two steps backward, she moved from the door and leaned against the bricks.
“Everything okay?” Shep joined her along the wall.
She crossed her arms, focusing on the field behind the parking lot. If only she’d kept her mouth shut, she wouldn’t be stuck having to admit she lied, thus making the truth more awkward than it already was. The lure to let Shep continue to think she’d hired someone else tugged at her, but she shoved it aside.
“I shouldn’t have told you I’d contracted a new repairman.” There, she’d told him the truth. Kind of.
“It’s fine, really.” He gave her a strained smile. “There’s competition out there and you shouldn’t
feel obligated to use my company.”
Great, he’d misunderstood. Next time, Lynds, think before you speak. “No, it’s not that.” She took a deep breath again. This was Shep, she could tell him the truth. “I didn’t hire anyone else, but I can’t afford a repair bill right now.”
Relief flashed in his eyes, followed by concern. “Why didn’t you say so from the start?”
Hunching her shoulders, she shrank into herself. “Do I have to answer that?”
His lips curled up on one side. “Why don’t you let me stop by and have a look at it, no charge? Depending on what’s wrong, I might be able to fix it with spare parts I already have.”
“I can’t take charity.” But the temptation was strong because she was in dire need. She removed her hand from the pocket and fiddled with her shirttails.
His gaze leveled with her. “If the situation was reversed, don’t you think Mark would have done the same for Miranda?”
“Of course he would.” She peered up at Shep, who stood a solid half foot above her five feet six inches. Victory danced in his pupils, causing a smile to play on Lyndsey’s lips. “You don’t fight fair.”
He chuckled. “Does that mean I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be home after three. Come by any time after that.” She conceded defeat, but not without terms. “And only if you let me make you dinner as payment.”
“Can’t say no to that.” Shep glanced at his watch. “The potluck will be over before we get in.”
“I’m sure Josh is already talking off Mrs. Tisdale’s ear.” Two steps put her back in front of the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She ducked inside before either could say another word. Shep was a friend, a dear one, but she’d not made a meal in her home for any man other than her husband. The idea planted all sorts of strange reactions in her, and if she thought about it for too long, she’d back out.
Buy Love in A Fix here.
About Author
Leah Atwood
USA Today Bestselling Author Leah Atwood is a small-town girl at heart and currently lives in a rural town in the deep South, though Maryland will always be home. She graduated from the University of Maryland with a degree in International Business but gave up a career in sales and marketing to follow love, a decision she's never regretted.
From the old west to Cajun country, Leah infuses true-to-life characters with small-town charm to invite her readers into a world where faith and love will always prevail. In both her historical and contemporary works, she believes in delivering inspirational stories that will leave her readers with a smile.
When not writing, she's busy raising two kids and corralling two dogs (an eighty-four-pound shepherd/lab mix and a seven-pound rat terrier/jack russell mix), or participating in a myriad of community and church events.
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Discover more of the Modern Convenience Series
Mistletoe & Mochas
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Lynnette Bonner
1 Corinthians 13: 4-8a
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy,
it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
Chapter One
Chelsea Tan suppressed a whimper and gritted her teeth as she eyed the mounds of scattered coffee beans Ted had just dashed to the floor in his anger. Those were the Kona ones straight from their Hawaiian grower, too. Easily a couple hundred dollars worth of coffee now lay ruined on the floor behind the service counter.
And of course she’d have to take it out of her own paycheck. She’d given Ted his last check only a moment ago before she fired him, and Aunt Flo would demand that someone pay for the damages.
Of all the immature, selfish, weaselly things to do… Then again, what else should she expect from a man who had tried—ugh.
Unable to complete the thought, she scrunched her eyes shut and attempted vainly to dispel the image of Ted’s anemic lips swooping in for a kiss.
She shuddered and glanced at the front door. The bell above it was still swaying slightly from the forceful way he’d slammed it.
That man was lucky all she’d done was fire his skinny self. By rights she could be pressing charges for… Oh, who was she kidding? He probably hadn’t gone far enough that she could press charges for anything, unless ‘super-persistent-geek-who-won’t-take-no-as-an-answer’ was a criminal charge these days. That and the fact that he’d nearly scared the bejeebers out of her when he’d arrived at work with flowers and tried to kiss her as she filled the pastry display. She’d turned to reach for a Danish and there he was leaning toward her.
A shudder scuttled down her spine.
She snatched up the broom and dustpan and set to hastily sweeping up the disaster. Tossing a glance at the clock, she rolled her eyes. Of course she was supposed to open in five minutes.
Her brows pinched together as a headache squeezed at the back of her neck.
Was it Friday yet?
Not even close and she’d have to handle the morning crowd on her own now because Hailey couldn’t get here any sooner than nine thirty.
On the other hand she wasn’t ready for it to be Friday either. She still had way too much work to do for Havyn and Levi’s Christmas Eve wedding on Saturday.
She ticked through a mental list as she worked. Oy! This week was going to be a nightmare. As maid of honor she wanted this wedding to be perfect, but she still had so much to get done, not the least of which was finishing up the hand-written place cards for the reception.
She turned on the grill and slapped the bacon slices onto the hottest part. Hurriedly, she cracked two eggs into separate spots, knowing Jim and Rose would be in for their daily bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwiches, and mochas the minute she opened. She’d seen them sitting on the bench out front as she drove by and turned into the employee parking lot. She washed her hands quickly. Drying them on her apron, she stepped to the front door and flipped over the sign.
The glass was frosty this morning – something unusual for Seattle, even if it was December and nearly Christmas. Someone had joined Jim and Rose on the walk, but all she could distinguish was someone rather tall who appeared to be wearing a red stocking cap.
She hadn’t even made it back behind the counter before she heard the bell above the door jangle and the signature thump of Rose’s cane crossing the threshold. The eggs! She called a hasty greeting over her shoulder as she hurried straight to the eggs and seasoned them, then scrambled them with a fork. “Morning, you two. I’ll have your sandwiches and mochas ready in just a moment. Sure was chilly out there when I came in this morning.”
“That it was,” Jim hollered. “My old bones is letting me know it too. Better make my mocha a large this morning.”
“Mine too.” The scraping of wooden legs across linoleum would be Jim dragging a third chair to their table for Rose to prop her foot on.
“Two large mochas, coming up!” She grabbed two cups and pumped chocolate syrup into the bottom of each.
“A mocha sounds good. I’ll take one of those as well.”
Chelsea froze.
The voice was warm and familiar. Just the sound of it filled her with contentment while at the same time making her hunger for more, like soft caramel after a stressful day.
It can’t be. She pivoted slowly on one heel.
Cannon Jones. His blond curls peeked out from under a red knit cap, and the tawny brown leather of his jacket made his shoulders seem broader than she’d remembered. But it was him, in the flesh. Standing off to one side of the cash register with his
arms folded and a slightly amused expression on his way-too-handsome face.
“C-Cannon…” She almost dropped one of the cups and only a quick reflex saved her from having chocolate syrup all down the front of her.
Heavens! Thank goodness Aunt Flo had drilled into her never to leave the house without any makeup on! She felt heat crawl into her cheeks. “Y-you’re certainly the last person I expected to see today.”
“I told you I would come the next time I could.”
He had. But he hadn’t contacted her in all the weeks since she’d gotten home from the building trip she’d taken to Africa where she’d met him. And she’d given up believing he actually would.
His gaze fixed on something over her shoulder. “Better get whatever is cooking.”
“Oh!” She thunked the cups down and snatched up the cheese slices and a spatula. Flipping the eggs over, she dropped cheese on the top of both, then scooped up the bacon and laid it atop the cheese. Her hands trembled as she split the bagels and layered together the sandwiches. Hastily, she finished the mochas, never allowing her gaze to travel to the man who still stood by the register simply watching her. Loading everything onto a tray, she hot-footed it to Jim and Rose’s table and carefully laid everything out for them. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, I think we’re fine. You go on and talk to your admirer.” Jim’s words rang out in his characteristic I-forgot-my-hearing-aids-again-today voice.
Cannon chuckled, and warmth blazed through her face yet again. Admirer indeed.
She scuttled behind the counter once more and rested nervous fingers on the granite by the register. “S-so…do you really want a mocha?”
He settled his forearms into the meager area between the till and the pastry display and leaned forward until his blue gaze captured hers. “I really want a mocha.” He grinned. “It’s freezing out there. You’ll recall it’s a lot warmer in Africa.”
Africa. Yes. The place he’d been for the past several weeks without contacting her even once.
