The plaques on the shiny modern fire trucks at the station read “Lovingly donated by Fannie Snow...” the library was fabulous, all the churches had been endowed, and those were just a few of her gifts.
Mandy had asked, but no one seemed to know where Fannie had gotten her wealth. She couldn’t have made it bootlegging during prohibition; she hadn’t been that old. The second-oldest profession? Maybe, but it seemed a stretch considering the amount of money involved.
The alarm on Mandy’s watch beeped, and she headed for the Senior Center’s kitchen, putting her questions about Fannie’s source of income aside.
“Do you cook?” the chair of the hiring committee had asked rather anxiously toward the end of her interview. “We need a program administrator who can prepare the senior lunch part of the time. Our last one, well...he nearly burned the place down, and he was just heating frozen mac and cheese. Have you ever fixed meals for a large number of people?”
“I can cook for groups, no problem,” Mandy had assured.
She’d worked in several cooking jobs over the years and had also helped her mother with faculty dinners, so she was comfortable preparing food in volume. That was one of the reasons the director’s job suited her—there was so much variety. Then she’d added even more variety by volunteering in different projects for the community.
“Have a Danish,” Lou Ella Parsons urged as Mandy returned to the parlor two hours later. The lasagna was in the oven and everything else was ready. Volunteers would come to serve at noon, and then take meals to seniors who were sick or otherwise homebound—the town’s own version of a meals-on-wheels program.
“You guys are trying to make me fat,” Mandy complained. Nevertheless, she took a pastry and poured herself a cup of coffee, though she preferred the brew she made in her own office. She’d quickly figured out that many of the seniors simply wanted company and a little attention.
“You need something solid on your bones,” Dorothy scolded. “The way you run around this building doing everything in sight, you burn up more calories than you eat.”
“She painted the restrooms last week,” Jane said.
“That was supposed to be a secret.” Mandy bit into the Danish and chased it down with coffee. “I didn’t want to get blamed for the paint I dripped on the floor.”
Dorothy leaned forward. “We could have hired someone.”
“You did,” Mandy reminded her. “Three months ago and it still wasn’t done. I kept bugging them, but the contractor always seemed to have another job that was more urgent.”
“You’re amazing, Mandy. I can’t understand why you aren’t married.”
“I’ve already done the marriage route, and it isn’t for me.” Mandy shuddered inside. It wasn’t because her divorce had been ugly, or because the year she’d spent with Vince had been so awful; but he’d expected her to change. Her entire childhood had been about people pushing her to be something she wasn’t, and after a year with a husband doing the same thing, she’d rebelled.
“Nonsense,” Dorothy scolded. “Just because it didn’t work the first time doesn’t mean you should give up on it.”
“Right,” Jane agreed. “Say, is the new city manager single?”
“I’m sure there’s something against this kind of thing in the bylaws. It’s a form of harassment,” Mandy complained, intending to keep the conversation lighthearted—she certainly didn’t want it taken seriously.
At the other end of the table, Dorothy looked toward the door and her mouth dropped open, almost with an expression of alarm. “Uh, ladies...”
“You could do worse,” Lou Ella said, not seeming to hear. “I’ve seen a picture of Daniel Whittier. He’s quite good-looking.”
“Oh, my, yes.” Jane pretended to fan herself.
A male voice suddenly broke through the chatter. “Excuse me.”
Mandy looked up and swallowed. An outrageously handsome man gazed at her. Dark wavy hair, blue eyes so intense they practically drilled into you...wow. She didn’t see guys like this every day, or every year for that matter, and she noted a couple of the ladies began straightening up, poking at their hair and smoothing their clothing. This was a guy who awakened feminine instincts in both young and old. It was pricking at her as well, but she resisted.
“Can I help you?” Mandy asked.
“I’m Daniel Whittier. I was told the director for the Senior Center has the keys to my house. Can you point me in the right direction? I went to the director’s office, but no one was there.”
“That’s because I was in the kitchen,” Mandy said.
“Have a cuppa tea and a pastry, luv,” Lou Ella urged. She’d come from England as a young bride, and her British accent became stronger when she was flustered. “We’ve plenty, and you can relax after your trip.”
“That’s kind of you,” he said, politely inclining his head. “But I should get my car unloaded. And I need to see my office to drop off a box of professional files.”
Mandy set her cup on the table and jumped out of her chair. “Uh, sure, but about your office, I—”
“You’re the director?”
“Last time I checked. I’m Mandy Colson. I’ve been here only a few months myself.”
“Then thank you.”
What a way to get introduced to the new city manager, with the group gossiping about him. Mr. Whittier must have heard them, at least that last part about him being so good-looking. Dorothy’s reaction had proved that much.
Mandy ran a hand through her hair. Not that she had contributed anything inappropriate to the conversation; she was scatterbrained, but not that scatterbrained. It was her sense of humor that landed her in trouble more than her impulsiveness. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Being impulsive got her into messes, too.
“I’ll get them right now,” Mandy said, anxious to get away from the gazes of the women. She didn’t want them to realize she found Daniel Whittier attractive. It was strange. He wasn’t that much better looking than Bill Rollins in Phoenix, but Bill had never made her pulse skip.
Daniel followed after a brief hesitation. In the small rotunda at the center of City Hall, Mandy stopped and gestured. Two hallways branched off it, with double doors at the end of each. She pointed to a marble staircase.
“Isn’t that the most amazing banister?” Mandy said. “Makes you want to be five years old and slide down it a few dozen times.”
Daniel was staring at her with an unreadable expression that made her even more uncomfortable.
“Oh?” was all he said.
“Yeah. I confess I even tried it one evening.”
His face closed up even more. Mandy wished she hadn’t said anything, but when she was uncomfortable, it was hard not to say whatever came into her head.
“The section behind us is dedicated to the Senior Center,” Mandy explained, trying to return to rationality. Daniel Whittier had been hired after interviewing on Skype, so he hadn’t seen City Hall. “You already know about my office. Yours is farther down the north hallway, past mine. Most of the other administrative offices are upstairs.”
He glanced around—probably orienting himself—with the same inscrutable expression on his face. “I suppose I expected the city manager’s place of business to be more toward the front, or adjacent to the other administrative personnel.”
“Don’t worry. Your office is nice, although not right at the mo—”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
She mentally groaned as they walked through the door that already bore his name, neatly painted on the frosted glass. A group had been assembling a cookbook in there, and the job was only half done—pages were spread over every free surface. Since the city manager’s office was the only unused space in the building, the mayor had suggested using it as a work area.
“Sorry about the c
lutter,” she said. “That’s what I was trying to tell you about. The scholarship board decided to raise money by selling a cookbook, and they would have finished yesterday, but they had to stop because a guy ran into a cow and then skidded into the power lines. The cow is okay, they think, but we lost electricity until it was too late to finish collating. It was one of those foggy days they sometimes get here, so it was awful gloomy in here without lights. They’ll have it out of your way this afternoon. They wouldn’t have used this room if they’d known...I mean, we didn’t think you were arriving until tomorrow. And there’s other cleanup that’s planned.”
He stared as if he thought she was nuts, but she’d simply repeated what the volunteer firemen had told her. Not that it had been necessary to provide all the details. What was the matter with her, anyway? Was her tongue wagging out of control because he was the best-looking thing on two legs she’d met in years? She ought to have more sense. Or maybe the problem was his stiff, buttoned-down style—it reminded Mandy of her parents.
“I talked with the mayor’s administrative assistant and told her I was coming today and would start work in the morning.”
Mandy grimaced. “Yikes, we just heard you’d be here tomorrow. The welcome committee assumed that was when you were getting into town, and would start work the next day.”
He rubbed his temples as if he had a headache, and his voice held a tone of determined patience when he replied, “That’s all right. I won’t need the office today and can wait to bring anything in. How about the house keys? I could go to a motel if it’s more convenient.”
“Heavens no. The house is mostly ready, except for some little stuff the committee planned to take care of tonight. The keys are in my office.” He followed and watched as she picked up her handbag.
“You keep official city keys in your purse?” he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“Not all of them,” she said, briefly annoyed. What right did he have to ask questions about where the keys were kept? Well, maybe as city manager he did have the right. Besides, they were now his house keys; she ought to have locked them in her desk or something. “I went over yesterday to help spruce up the place and they suggested I take the keys then, since I was supposed to be holding them for you. It’s a great house, by the way.”
There they were. She separated the key ring from a handful of gum wrappers and handed the keys to him.
“You must chew quite a bit of gum.”
“Not me. Bobby Tyler left these on the porch. It was getting late so I stuffed them in my bag rather than going around and dropping them in the garbage can.”
“I see.” His jaw resembled granite.
Wow, she thought. Daniel might be a hunk, but he also seemed mighty uptight. Of course, that was mostly a feeling she’d gotten from his body language and the cool look in his eyes. He hadn’t actually said or done anything overly stuffy—he also hadn’t been especially friendly, but it wasn’t fair to judge him for that.
* * *
DANIEL TOOK A deep breath. No doubt things would have been in better order if there hadn’t been a miscommunication about his arrival date. He would have to keep reminding himself about that. It wasn’t easy; he was tired from driving all night, and seeing the mess in his new office only enhanced his fatigue.
What else did he expect?
This was a small town...a really small town. He was accustomed to communities with extensive staffing—someday he hoped to manage a major city. Excitement charged through Daniel at the thought. The only thing better would be heading up emergency services in a large metropolitan area, but that was a tougher career path.
In the meantime, he had Willow’s Eve. And he couldn’t complain; he’d known the town was small and wouldn’t have as many services. But he had been so anxious to leave Southern California that he’d taken the job when it was offered—life had gotten sticky down there once his ex-wife started dating the mayor. And to think, she used to say how much she hated having to be polite to “the schmuck” at Christmas parties. Her attitude had changed rapidly once their divorce was finalized...or maybe the schmuck was the reason she’d walked out in the first place.
Hell, no point in going there. He needed to focus on the immediate present and the future. Getting settled fast was important. He wanted his new house to feel like a home when Samantha arrived with her grandmother. He’d decided to delay their arrival so he wouldn’t be starting a new job and helping his daughter adjust at the same time.
The phone rang and the young woman—it was hard to think of her as the director of a community program—checked which line the call was coming in on, punched the flashing button and picked up the receiver.
“Mandy Colson, Senior Center. May I help you?” she answered cheerfully. A silence followed. “Bella, you can’t put it off. The new city manager is here and needs his office....Uh-uh, there’s no way he can work with that stuff covering everything....Yeah, that might be okay....I’ll try to explain....See you tonight.”
She set down the receiver and glanced at Daniel with a guilty expression.
“Don’t tell me,” he said, trying to show some understanding. After all, it wasn’t Mandy Colson’s fault. “My office won’t be cleared by tomorrow?”
“No, it will be, just not before tonight. I’m really sorry. That was Bella Smythe. She chairs the Scholarship Board and forgot about Cora Mikelson’s wedding shower this afternoon. I don’t know Cora since she moved to Vicksville a year ago—they say to catch the guy she’s been sweet on for years—and she finally did, so it’s kind of a big deal....” Her voice trailed, then picked up again. “Anyway, when I explained you were here, Bella said she’ll get the committee together this evening to finish up, so your office should be free of cookbook innards by tomorrow morning.”
She smiled with what she probably hoped was a cute and charming apology. And Daniel had to acknowledge she was cute, and quite pretty with those big green eyes and flyaway long blond curls. It was the way Mandy chattered that made her appear flaky.
“You mentioned being new here, as well. How long have you worked at the center?” he asked carefully.
Her nose wrinkled. “About five months. I was exploring the area and the next thing I knew, I was the director. I love it, though, and the people are terrific.”
Five months? That would mean they’d hired Mandy Colson after the old city manager retired.
Daniel’s head ached as he considered what he knew of the situation. From what they’d hinted at during the interview, the prior city manager had been a nice guy who’d fallen into the job by accident. And apparently he’d left in a hurry almost a year earlier. So, how long had it been since things were handled in a professional manner around Willow’s Eve? Daniel suddenly pictured working in a jumbled maelstrom and never being able to get anything done. Not fair, he told himself. It was only his fatigue talking. Things might not be as organized as in his previous position; that didn’t mean people in Willow’s Eve were incompetent.
And he’d known aspects of his new job would be a challenge. He’d have to keep that in mind during the weeks ahead. In other words, patience. Patience didn’t come naturally to Daniel, but he’d learned to practice it...unless the time came when patience was no longer effective.
“You don’t need to worry,” Mandy assured. “Bella said your office would be back to normal tomorrow, though I can’t promise what ‘normal’ means after a year of not having a city manager.”
Daniel assumed his most professionally pleasant expression. “That’s to be expected. Thank you for urging Ms. Smythe to get it done quickly. I’d hate to wait before getting an effective start.”
She shrugged. “No big deal.”
“Now that I have the keys, I’ll check things out at the house.”
“It’ll be fastest if I show you. My GPS doesn’t recognize most of the addresses here, a
nd the opposing team from Shellton stole the street signs last Friday after the home team kidnapped their mascot.” She stopped and waved reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t a person dressed up in a costume—it was a goat and they took very good care of it.”
Daniel’s head pounded, his thoughts jumbling together. It reminded him of the time when, as a kid, he’d stepped into a sinkhole at the lake where his parents had gone every year to pretend they were a normal, happy family. He’d experienced pure panic, and he’d never forgotten the sensation of unexpectedly flailing and scrambling for a footing in the water.
“Anyway,” Mandy continued. “The sheriff got the goat and returned it. And he’s making the kids put the street signs back, but they can’t do it until Saturday because they have to drive over from Shellton. Coming after school isn’t realistic.”
“I assume you’re talking about high school rivalries?” he asked.
“Yep. Basketball. Personally, I’d be more excited if it were baseball, but basketball is the preferred sport in Willow’s Eve. They begin practicing before school starts, and I didn’t think teams ever did that except for football. The game on Saturday was just for practice, but they had the mascots there and everything, just as if it was for real.”
“All right, Ms. Colson,” he said quickly. “But this is a small town and I’m sure if you give me the directions to my house, I’ll be able to find it.”
“I promised the committee I’d go with you.”
“It really isn’t necessary.”
“Necessary is subjective. It may not feel necessary to you, but it is for me, because I promised. Besides, there are a few things I should show you at the house.”
Her chin was raised to a stubborn angle and Daniel weighed her determination against his own desire to be left alone.
“Very well,” he said. “But it seems a waste of your time.”
“Don’t get in a twist about it.”
Harlequin Superromance November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Christmas at the CoveNavy ChristmasUntil She Met Daniel Page 57
