by Jaci Burton
“He’s very cute.” She crouched down to greet Not My Dog, who had trotted over to check her out. The dog wagged his tail when Loretta scratched under his chin. “Is this your assistant, Reid?”
“He thinks he runs the place.”
She laughed, then stood. “I imagine he does.” She turned around, then looked up. “I love this ceiling.”
“Yeah, I was jazzed about it when we uncovered it.”
She walked around. “The columns are amazing. As is the brick wall. Original to the building, I assume?”
“Yes. The columns are, too, so the historical society has mandated that those stay.”
She nodded. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She walked the length and width of the space—three times—and he could tell she was formulating ideas in her head.
He liked that she was thorough, and he could see her mind working as she familiarized herself with the layout of the first floor.
“If you’d like to see what the capabilities are, I can take you upstairs to the second and third floor. We’ve done a lot more finishing up there.”
“I would like to see that. Thanks.”
They headed upstairs to the second floor.
“You’ll have to excuse the dust. Some things aren’t finished yet.”
She laughed. “I’ve been in a renovation zone before, so it’s nothing new to me. When Tom—my ex—and I renovated one of our houses, it was like living in hell for three months. Trust me, this is nothing.”
“Okay, then.” He showed her around the second and third floors so she could see some of the finishes in the offices, the windows, and the bathrooms.
He took her to the third floor to show off the big office. She stared out the window.
“It’s amazing up here.” She turned to face him. “Do you have this space rented out yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Someone will grab this right up. The view is extraordinary.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“You can see all of Hope out here, and so much farther.” She looked out, crossed her arms over herself, and took a deep breath. “Definitely all of home. I’ve missed this. All of this.”
He wondered what had brought her back here. He knew who she’d married, the amount of money she’d married into. Even after the divorce she could have lived anywhere. So why here?
It wasn’t his business to ask that question.
They headed back downstairs, and she walked around again.
“It’s plenty big enough for the bookstore,” she said. “At first glance I was afraid it was going to be too small. I want it to be a comfortable place, a spot where people can come in and sit down. But now that I’ve seen it, I realize there’s an abundance of room not only for the shelves, but also for sofas and tables. It has a true old-world feel to it, but has the potential for modern touches as well from what I’ve seen with how you’ve finished parts of the upstairs. You’ve done an amazing job with the restoration so far.”
“Thanks.”
The front door opened, and Deacon walked in. In an instant the tension grew so thick it was like a sudden fog had rolled in.
Deacon stopped, frowned. “Loretta.”
She nodded. “Deacon, I didn’t expect to—” She shot a look over at Reid. “Deacon’s working this job.”
“Yes, Deacon’s working this job,” Deacon said, drawing Loretta’s attention from Reid.
Loretta looked at him. “I didn’t mean to—”
Deacon held up his hand. “It’s okay. Great to see you again, Loretta. I’m heading upstairs.”
Deacon walked away, and Reid caught Loretta’s gaze tracking him.
Yeah. That was one hell of a reunion after twelve years.
And now Reid was stuck with what looked like a very uncomfortable leftover. He was going to have to try to smooth things over.
“So . . . about the space, Loretta. Do you think it’s going to work for you?”
She snapped to attention. “Oh, of course. I love it. I love absolutely everything about it.”
“Great. We’re about to get ready to put walls in. I showed you the drawings for the initial plans, but I can change some things up if you’d like. We can add or move electrical, lighting, outlets, and things like that. The plumbing, however, is already in place.”
She nodded, seeming to have her emotions under control again. “The bathroom location is fine. Let’s talk about wall and outlet placement. I’d also like to put in a coffee and tea bar.”
He sat down with her, and for the next hour they drew it all out. He asked her if she was ready to commit, and she said she was. He told her he’d e-mail her a contract, and she said she’d forward it on to her attorney. They finished off with a handshake. Loretta said she was excited to be back in Hope, and she was ready to sign for the first floor.
After he finished work he saw that the flower shop was closed up. He hadn’t seen much of Sam in the past few days—again. He’d tried calling her and texting her, but all he’d gotten from her was “Busy.”
He understood busy, so he’d left her alone. He knew she had stuff going on with her grandmother, but he wanted to make sure she was okay. He decided to take a drive over to her place after work.
She wasn’t home, so he and Not My Dog walked down the street and knocked on Claire Reasor’s door.
Sam answered. “Oh, hi.”
“Hey. Just checking in—on both of you.”
Claire came up behind Sam. “Reid. How nice to see you. And you brought your adorable dog. Please come in, we were just fixing dinner.”
“I don’t want to intrude. I just stopped by to say hello.”
“You’re not intruding. Come on inside.”
“I can put the dog out back if you’d like.”
Claire’s grandmother waved her hand. “Nonsense. Bob and I had dogs for years. I’ve missed having them around. Bring him in, too.”
He stepped into the hall, and Sam shut the door. “Sorry,” he said after Claire had wandered off into the kitchen. “I hadn’t seen or heard from you and I was worried about you—and your grandmother.”
“I know. I apologize for brushing you off. I’ve been . . . hanging out with her.”
Claire seemed to be busy in the kitchen. “Is she okay?”
Sam just lifted a shoulder. “Right now she’s fine. I’ll tell you about it later. Come on in, have dinner with us.”
Sam reached down to pet Not My Dog.
“Are you sure? I really don’t want to intrude.”
Sam clutched his arm. “You’re not intruding. Grammy Claire loves company.” She smiled at him. “We’re making chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes for dinner.”
He put his hand over his heart. “You’re joking.”
“I am not. And you’re just in time to peel potatoes.”
“I’d be happy to.”
He followed her into the kitchen, sitting Not My Dog down just outside the kitchen area. The dog circled and laid down on the living room rug, watching all the action.
“Would you like some sweet tea, Reid?” Claire asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I can fix it myself.”
“You go ahead then.”
He fixed the tea, then washed his hands. Sam handed him the potatoes, and he stood by the sink and peeled them while Sam and Claire worked at the stove. He put the peeled potatoes in a pot, filled it with water, then set it on one of the burners, taking a long drink of the most amazing sweet tea ever as he watched Sam and Claire coat the meat and prepare it for frying.
“Would you like me to take care of that?” he asked.
Sam slanted him a look. “As if. Grammy Claire and I have been cooking chicken fried steak together since I was old enough to stand near the stove. You can watch the potatoes.”
He’d been told, hadn’t he? Having been put in charge of the potatoes, he was forced to breathe in the delicious scent of the chicken fried steak cooking while he monitored boiling potatoes.
He’d als
o been put in charge of green beans, so while he managed those, they took care of the chicken fried steaks in the cast-iron skillet, the two of them talking to each other while he listened.
Claire seemed to be fine, which he took as a good sign. Claire left Sam in charge of the steaks while she set the table.
He drained the water off the potatoes.
“I need a masher.”
“In there.” She pointed to a drawer, where he found an awesome, ancient wooden hand masher. He mashed up the potatoes, added milk, butter, salt, and pepper, then covered that pot and set it to the side while he took care of the green beans.
Everything was finished at the same time, so they scooped it all into bowls and serving dishes. Reid refilled his glass of tea, and they made their way to the table to eat.
He stayed mostly quiet during dinner, listening to Sam and Claire talking about flowers. Claire was still very sharp and knew her flowers well.
Until she stumbled.
“Fall’s coming. You’ll need to make sure you have your order of ammonia.” Claire stopped. Frowned. Rubbed her temple. “That’s not right.”
She frowned again. “I know what it is. The damya flower.”
Sam reached over and touched Claire’s hand. “Dahlia.”
“Yes.” Claire nodded. “Dahlia.”
Sam looked over at Reid. He understood the issue. “It’s a beautiful flower. We have some on the ranch. Martha loves to plant those.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Claire said with a smile. “You have plenty of those for fall?”
“Yes, Grammy Claire, I do. Molly’s going to have some in her wedding decorations. A lovely orange, along with some calla lilies and roses.”
“That’s this weekend, isn’t it?” Reid asked, doing his best to keep the conversation flowing smoothly.
Sam nodded.
“That Molly is so sweet. I love her mother, Georgia.”
Dinner continued, as did the talk about flowers—and Molly and Carter’s wedding.
He was happy to discover Claire had made blueberry crisp for dessert.
He was going to have to hit the gym for a workout. All this awesome food was going to cause him to gain weight.
After dinner, Sam made her grandmother sit in the living room, where she loved all over Not My Dog while Reid and Sam did the dishes.
Reid took a look over his shoulder. Claire was immersed in a game show on TV. Not My Dog was sitting on her foot and she had her hand on his head, scratching his ear. The TV was turned up pretty loud, so she wouldn’t be able to hear him talking to Sam in the kitchen.
“How is she?”
Sam handed him a plate she’d just washed. “The doctor says it’s Alzheimer’s.”
He gripped the plate in his hands, his stomach tightening. “I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Me, too.”
“Other than forgetting the name of that flower, she seems to be doing well.”
She nodded. “The doctor said she’ll have a lot of lucid moments, at least for now. The decline will be gradual, but she will decline.”
He laid the plate to the side and put his arm around her. She stiffened.
“I’m fine. I don’t want her to see me upset.”
He understood that. “Okay.”
He finished helping her with the dishes, then went into the living room and sat with Sam and Claire. They watched television for a little while—an old mystery on one of the classic television channels. They had fun trying to figure out who the murderer was. Reid guessed right and Sam accused him of having seen the movie before. He swore he hadn’t.
Claire finally got up and said she was tired and wanted to go to the bedroom to get ready for bed.
“Do you want me to help you take a bath and get ready?” Sam asked.
“No. I want you to go home. I’m still able to take care of myself, Samantha. At least for now.”
“Okay.”
Claire went over and gave Reid a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for staying with me. I’m sure it’s not very exciting hanging out with an old woman.”
He put his arm around her. “I don’t know about that, Claire. I think you’re pretty fun for an old gal. Plus, you make the best chicken fried steak I’ve ever had. I’m thinking of moving in here.”
She laughed and patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome anytime. Good night, Reid.”
Sam kissed and hugged her grandmother, then they left. He walked beside her across the street. Not My Dog stayed close to Sam.
“Thank you for hanging out with us tonight.”
“I enjoyed it. And hey, I got chicken fried steak out of the deal.”
She looked over at him. “Yes. Your radar must have been on tonight.”
“My—oh.” He laughed. “Yeah. It is my favorite food.”
“So I’ve noticed. You ate two helpings.”
He shrugged. “Can’t help myself. It’s a sickness. I’ve already decided I’m going to have to go for a run tomorrow morning before I start work. I’ve got a lot of calories to burn.”
They had reached Sam’s porch. She used the key from her pocket to open the front door, then walked in. He assumed he was supposed to follow.
“I don’t know about that,” she said, hanging the key on the hook in the kitchen. “I’ll bet you’re sweating out a lot of calories working on the mercantile.”
“A few.”
He pulled her over to the sofa and sat down with her, drawing her against him.
“Rough few days?”
She sighed and melted against him. “Yeah.”
“I know you think you have to handle this all on your own, but I’m here for you, Sam. If you need someone to talk to, someone to lean on—I’m here.”
She patted his chest. “Thank you.”
Sam listened to Reid’s heart beating against her cheek, drawing in the comfort of his strong embrace even though she knew she shouldn’t.
She had always been fiercely independent and had never relied on anyone but herself. Her grandparents had taught her to be self-reliant. But she’d always known she had Grammy Claire and Grandpa Bob to fall back on in times of need. And they had always been there for her—her rocks when times had gotten rough. From the time she lost her parents when she’d been so young, to struggling with having no parents, they had been there for her every step along the way.
Losing Grandpa Bob a couple of years ago had been a severe blow both to her and to Grammy Claire. But it had bonded her even closer to her grandmother.
Now, she felt those strong ties to her grandmother—to her only living relative—slipping away. And it hurt harder than she had ever expected it to.
She was independent and she knew she could stand on her own two feet. She would survive just fine.
But she loved her grandmother. Losing her piece by piece like this was going to be devastating.
And as she leaned against Reid, she realized that this—him—was exactly what she needed to soften the blow.
The only problem was, Reid was temporary. The support he offered was sweet, but eventually he was going to leave.
Losing him was going to hurt, too.
She knew better than to lean too hard on him. It would only be another knife in her heart when he was gone.
But tonight she needed this. So even though whatever she had with Reid was only for right now, she closed her eyes and let his strong arms surround her.
Tomorrow she’d go back to taking care of everything on her own.
Chapter 31
SAM THREW HERSELF into preparation for Carter and Molly’s wedding. Fortunately, it had kept her busy all week long. The lion’s share of the work was in creating the floral arrangements for the church and the bouquets—especially Molly’s bridal bouquet. The floral décor for the reception wasn’t quite so daunting.
She had been working nonstop for days—and a lot of nights. She’d been on the phone at least six times with Molly this past week, assuring her she had everything under control. She
hadn’t slept much and she’d put in a lot of late nights at the flower shop. She’d actually surrendered and called in help, punting some of her regular orders to a few surrounding shops, who’d been awesome and helped her out by taking on some of her daily orders. Every florist understood a wedding crunch, and she’d often assisted other shops who’d been under similar deadline pressure. When push came to shove, a big event was always a priority. And as long as her regular customers got their deliveries on time, everyone was happy. She’d return the favor to the other flower shops at some point.
Reid had brought her food several times this week. She was so grateful. Otherwise, she might have starved. He’d also stopped by to visit with Grammy Claire. He told her she should work. He was on a gin rummy run with Grammy Claire, and since she’d kicked his butt several times already this week, he intended to exact his revenge. She didn’t know what she would have done without him.
Faith had tended to her grandmother as well, taking her out to the store and to a doctor’s appointment. She had also stayed the night a couple of times, and had told Sam to quit worrying, that she had her grandmother well taken care of. She was also bringing her grandmother to the wedding tonight, which was one less thing Sam would have to worry about.
“Will I see you at the wedding?” she asked Reid when he brought her a delicious croissant from Megan’s bakery to start her morning off just right.
“Like it or not, I’m your date for tonight.” He handed her a tall mocha latte to go with the croissant. “Oh wait. I guess I forgot to ask you. I did forget to ask you. Sam, will you be my date for the wedding?”
She laughed. “I’m going to be busy with the flowers. You need a date who’ll have time to actually act like a date.”
“Once the flowers are in place, your work is done, isn’t it?”
“I . . . suppose so.”
“Okay, so do your flower thing, then be my date. You’ll actually be able to relax.”
Relax. She’d forgotten what that word meant. “I’d love to be your date.”
He brushed his lips over hers. “See you tonight. Call me if you need anything.”
He walked out of her shop, leaving her with a latte, a croissant, and a mountain of work to do.
