by Judith Post
Jeannie frowned. "Where are you off to?"
"A woman offered me a job. I'm going to apply for it."
Guthrie grinned. He had an idea that someday soon, Jess would be doing a lot more than pruning vines and helping with remodeling. They'd better enjoy him while they could.
When Jess left the apartment, Jeannie turned to Guthrie. "You wanted to talk?"
"I'm not a bit romantic or suave. I work odd hours, and I can be a bit gruff. But I like you, and…."
That's as far as he got. Redheads didn't just have tempers. They were passionate. Jeannie's hands were in his hair, her lips on his lips. She might be older, like him, but there was still a fire in her furnace. Guthrie knew he was lost. The two of them might be going gray and fighting wrinkles, but none of that mattered. Jeannie was everything he'd ever wanted, and if she felt the same way, he couldn't wait for his Golden Years. Old age was going to be damned fun.
MIDU'S MAGIC
The Emerald Hills novellas and bundle have been and are dedicated to the wonderful people I met when I joined several groups on Goodreads.
Midu, this one's for you.
By the third week of March, snow still covered the ground and temperatures dipped in the low teens, but Midu stood, warm and satisfied, in her new greenhouse. Tables supported hundreds of potting containers, and sprouts poked fragile shoots above carefully mixed soil blends. An overhead sprinkler gently misted her babies to life once a day. Peat rimmed her fingernails—the joy of playing in dirt. She loved nothing more than growing plants. Kyle teased that she was like Mother Nature with a botany degree. And then there was her magic. Most people in Emerald Hills knew about that.
Midu had more than a green thumb. The passion she put into growing things permeated the fruits and vegetables from her stand. Her produce put Cupid's arrows to shame. Passing interests and temporary desires melted away, and a person discovered who his soul mate was.
She sighed and bit her bottom lip. This June, she'd turn twenty-nine, one year away from the dreaded thirty. Her magic had worked for everyone she knew, but never for her. She'd never looked at a man and known, for sure, that he was the one.
A door opened and closed, and Kyle came to stand beside her. Tall and lanky, he looked over row after row of tender, tomato seedlings. "You finally have the room to grow heirlooms. They're looking good."
Midu smiled. Kyle had been her business partner ever since she'd hired him four years ago. Back then, all of the produce they sold came from the raised garden beds they tended. Those beds held rhubarb now. She and Kyle had planted so many varieties of vegetables, they'd filled the entire property with gardens and make-shift greenhouses. And then there were the orchards and berry patches.
"What have you been up to today?" she asked. Kyle had taken the day off, something he rarely did, even in the off-tourist season.
"I went to see Thea Patek."
"To visit?" People in town held Thea in a certain amount of awe. Most shop owners in Emerald Hills had magic, but Thea was preordained to be a weaver, to help the Fates record a new soul's journey when he stepped on the scales of life before being born.
Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, taking a minute to answer. "She wants to plant an herb garden, so I helped her build a glass lean-to on her barn."
Midu frowned at his body language, thought about his hesitation before answering. Kyle was never evasive. Something was up. "You must be a glutton for punishment. You just helped me finish our big greenhouse, and then you build a small one for Thea?"
Kyle shrugged. "We're doing a trade-off, a favor for a favor."
A trade? Thea made book marks and life maps of peoples' lives. Okay, she and her friends raffled off quilts to raise money for special projects, too, but Midu didn't see Kyle as the type to hanker for a patchwork comforter or bonnet coverlet. "What's she doing for you?"
Kyle shuffled his feet and looked away. "It's sort of personal. I'd rather not talk about it."
Midu could feel her eyes go wide. She and Kyle could talk about anything to each other. They'd been friends for so long, knew each other so well, most of the time, they didn't even need to talk. She stared. "Is everything all right?"
He squared his jaw. The man was shy and quiet, but he could be stubborn. "I got myself into sort of a predicament, and I don't see a way out of it. Thea's weaving might be able to help me."
Midu had heard of people paying Thea to weave life maps for them. But Kyle? He was so easy-going, such a homebody—what predicament could he possibly have? Then an ugly fear made her gasp. "You're not sick, are you? Something serious?"
He grimaced, frustrated. "Nothing like that."
"Is it something I can help you with?"
"No!" He cleared his throat. "I mean, you're kind of the last person I could ask."
Her hands went to her hips. "I'm your best friend."
A blush crept over his cheeks. He ran a hand through his soft, sandy-colored hair. He had beautiful hair. Everything about him added up to almost handsome. If he weren't so quiet, Midu was sure some woman would have snatched him up by now. His voice low, he said, "You are my best friend. That's part of the reason I can't talk to you about this."
But a life map from Thea? What sense did that make? When Midu first met Emerald Hills' weaver, she'd been curious about the gift the Fates had given her. "How much of a person's life is preordained?" she'd asked.
Thea had assured her, "It's only the journey—the ups and downs—that can't be changed. How you deal with them, what you make of your life, is your own choice."
Midu frowned up at Kyle. "Did you do something horrible, something dumb? I can help you fix it."
He shook his head. "I just stopped by to check on things here, but I have to get going. I'll be at Thea's tomorrow, too. I'm taking her lots of herb starts. She should have basil and thyme in a few weeks."
Midu watched him stalk to the door and cross the cleared, garden patches to where he'd parked his pickup. She felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of her or maybe put her brain in a blender. What the heck was going on?
She pushed thoughts of Kyle out of her mind, but they wouldn't stay gone. He'd been more restless lately than usual, but as always, he just worked more hours, like she did, to distract himself. What would he go to Thea Patek for? The only people she knew who paid for life maps were desperate because they'd hit a life bump and didn't know how to deal with it. What could Kyle possibly be desperate about?
Come to think of it, though, whenever she asked him if something was bothering him, he denied it. Maybe he needed a vacation, perhaps working here and living in his small, one-bedroom apartment was getting to be too much of a rut, but he turned down her offer of a week or two off. Said he wanted to help her build the greenhouse and set it up for her heirloom tomato plants.
Tired of rehashing the same thoughts, she went to the deep sink in the corner, cleaned up, and headed for the farmhouse. The wooden steps were slippery, even with the safety strips Kyle had put on them, so she gripped the railing as she climbed to their wrap-around, front porch. Their. She couldn't help it. Whenever she thought of the porch, she thought of her sitting in her smaller rocking chair and Kyle in his larger one. They usually ended a hot summer day, relaxing out here.
She took off her shoes before entering the house. Its old, oak floors gleamed in pale rays of sunlight that slanted through the living room's long, narrow windows. Antiques mixed with leather sofas and wing back chairs. She padded to the kitchen at the back of the house. She loved this room—a huge square with a long, wooden table that served as an island. A sitting/ eating area invited people to gather in front of the fireplace. Kyle had helped her gut the cheap, former cupboards and appliances for a total remake. Together, they'd made it look Tuscan with open shelving and terra cotta-colored walls.
It felt empty now. Kyle usually ate supper with her after they worked. She liked puttering in the kitchen with him, liked having someone to talk with while she ate. She'd always hoped that she'
d bite into one of her apples someday, look across the table, and know that Kyle was her life partner, but it had never happened. How could she feel so comfortable, so secure with someone, and he wasn't the one? But her produce was never wrong.
She opened the refrigerator and scowled at the chicken breasts she'd thawed. One of Kyle's favorites was Kashmiri chicken and rice. She was no gourmet chef, but she loved to cook. Her dishes offered the feeling of traditional meals, but might not actually pass if her mother—the purist—ever tasted one of them.
She reached for a bowl of leftover chili she'd saved to heat for Kyle for lunch. She nuked it, then wandered to the living room to eat in front of the TV. The news didn't hold her interest. What was Kyle up to? A pain stabbed her right side. This batch of chili didn't seem to agree with her. Too many jalapenos? She downed a beer to settle her stomach. That had helped last time. She picked up her stack of seed catalogues and began to browse through them. A sure fire way to relax. And soon, her eyes grew heavy. She'd worked hard enough today that when she went to bed at an early hour, she fell straight to sleep.
In the morning, she went to their third greenhouse. That word again. Their. This building wasn't nearly as glamorous as the new one—just plastic covering over metal framework—but Kyle had already prepared all of the beds so that she could start different kinds of lettuce and spinach plants. There were no overhead sprinklers, but he'd hooked up the hoses and unwound them, so that she had water.
She pressed a hand to her lips, surveying his work. What if Kyle was searching for something new in his life? What would she do if he left her? She'd never considered losing him. She dug her fingernails into her palms. Her heart ached. Kyle wasn't her soul mate, but he was a friend. A good friend. Her best friend. She sighed. She couldn't think about this. It hurt too much.
Angry with herself, she grabbed packets of seeds and began sprinkling them in the neat rows Kyle had formed. But this time, the dirt didn't distract her, as it usually did. She took a deep breath. She was letting her imagination run away with her. She was going to calm herself, enjoy this time in the greenhouse, and make decisions when she had more information.
The rest of the day passed as usual. By the time she cleaned up at the small sink in the greenhouse, she was feeling much better. She didn't have to cook tonight. Kyle wouldn't be here. Instead, she tossed the chicken in a crock pot and changed out of her shoddy jeans and dirt-stained sweatshirt before heading into Emerald Hills. She'd treat herself to a dinner at Nancy's Restaurant.
Nancy hooted in surprise when she saw Midu walk inside. "Well, talk about miracles! I never expected both you and Kyle to show up tonight."
"Kyle's here?" Midu's heart gave a happy skip. She could sit with him and brag that she'd planted three varieties of seeds today.
Nancy pointed. "He's been helping the new girl in town. Woodrow was too busy to put up shelves in her shop."
Midu looked across the room and saw Kyle laughing while a girl with long, blond hair waved her hands in the air as she told him some story. Midu gulped. Not just any blonde. This girl sparkled with beauty. Bright blue eyes. A creamy complexion. Subtle make-up and a curvy figure. All the things Midu was not.
Midu felt her heart fall to her stomach—at least, something did. She took a shaky breath. "I don't want to bother them. Kyle didn't know I was coming. I won't interrupt him. Just give me a table sort of out of the way."
Nancy studied her a second. Was she pale? Did she look like she might keel over, hit the restaurant floor? The woman knew people all too well. She could tell something was different, but she didn't push it. "I have a spot by the window. How does that work?"
But on their way to the table, Thea Patek waved to Midu. "Hey, I'm having one last cup of coffee. Care to join me for a minute?"
Nancy led her to the empty chair across from Thea. "Thea and I have been yakking between customers," Nancy said, "but business is picking up. It's your turn to keep her company."
Thea rolled her eyes. "No one has to baby-sit me."
Nancy winked. "It's not like Gabe can come here with you. You two have a nice chat." Gabe, as everyone in town knew, was Thea's dead husband, who'd returned to her as a ghost. Not the most common love story, but it worked for them.
Thea looked at Midu and smiled. "When Kyle told me he was coming here for supper, it put me in the mood, too. Nancy and I have had a nice time, catching up with each other."
Midu tried not to look at Kyle's table, but couldn't stop herself. She turned in her chair to see him and the blonde. "We have a new shopkeeper in Emerald Hills?"
"Lynn bought Dan's jewelry shop. He retired, and he and his wife are moving to Albuquerque."
Midu had heard Dan was leaving. "Is Lynn a jeweler?"
"She doesn't make rings, like Dan did, but she works with silver and gems. Her stuff is gorgeous. You'll have to stop by her shop sometime and introduce yourself."
She's not getting one leaf of lettuce from me. The sudden thought made Midu blush. What was wrong with her? She loved it when people bought her produce and it made them happy.
Thea watched her thoughtfully. "Lynn doesn't have any magic, but her work should sell itself."
Would Kyle feel more comfortable with someone with no magic, since he had none himself? Midu took a long, ragged breath.
Thea smiled. "You know, there are many people who have the mistaken impression that just because they have magic, they can draw on it for themselves."
Midu frowned. "Can't they?"
"No. None of us can. I can't make a life map for myself. I can't see the colors when I look at my own bookmark. My grandmother wove that. Tana's candies don't work on her, and Lolita can't see her own reflection in the mirrors she makes."
Midu blinked. "Really?"¶Thea reached across the table and patted her hand. "We're too close to our own work. Like the old saying, we can't see the forest for the trees."
Tears stung Midu's eyes. She wasn't someone who cried easily. "But I've been waiting all these years for my produce to show me who my soul mate is."
Thea sighed. She pushed her chair from the table and said, "I have to get home. Hannah will wonder where I got off to, but if you wait for your produce to help you find love, you'll be an old maid. It's not going to happen."
Midu watched Thea wave a goodbye to Nancy. She watched more and more people crowd into the restaurant. She felt numb. Nancy brought her the pulled pork sandwich she'd ordered, and Midu ate without tasting it. She watched Kyle pay for his and Lynn's meals and leave the restaurant with her, with only a brief nod in her direction. A scream gathered in her throat, and she swallowed it down. How stupid could she be? She'd waited all these years for something that would never happen. Had she waited too long? She'd never seen Kyle talk so much or laugh so easily as he had with Lynn.
On the drive home, Midu clenched the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Why had no one ever told her that magic didn't work for its user?
Her thoughts went to the time, two years ago, when a mistaken customer blamed Midu for his unhappiness. His girlfriend had eaten her produce and fallen in love with someone else, not him. He held her accountable and meant to punish her. Kyle had insisted on staying at the house with her twenty-four hours a day, to make sure she was safe.
Having Kyle in the guest bedroom, just across the hall from her, had proven almost too much temptation, but she'd told herself over and over again, the produce hadn't chosen him. He wasn't her soul mate. But what if he was? He'd hinted, as much as Kyle could bring himself to hint, that he liked being with her, living in the same house. And what had she done? She'd offered to let him room with her.
She remembered the look on his face when she said that. Hurt. And when the crisis was over, he'd gone back to his apartment.
She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
That night, she lay in bed, tossing and fretting. If she couldn't rely on her magic to show her the perfect mate, she'd have to hope for the best, like most
people did. And she'd place odds on Kyle. Could she still win him? Or had she waited too long, and the new girl in town looked better?
When she moved to Emerald Hills to follow her magic, she'd thrown herself into starting her farm stand whole-heartedly. Her parents had moved to the United States from Pakistan. They'd made a good life here. They worked hard and expected her to do the same. That's the only way she knew to approach things she cared about. Why should winning Kyle be any different?
When she woke in the morning, she took extra care before going to the greenhouse with the lettuces. She'd planted three varieties yesterday and had many rows to go.
Kyle was already there when she walked in. He glanced up to wish her a good morning and stared. "You look different."
She felt a flush heat her neck and face. "I put on make-up."
"Your hair's fancy."
She took a deep breath. "I was tired of just washing it and letting it dry." She'd spent a decent amount of time, pulling it up into soft waves and curls.
He studied it a moment. "It looks nice."
Not you look nice. But it looks nice. The man wouldn't sweep a girl off her feet with his charm. She struggled not to look irritated. "Thea said you've been helping the new girl in town."
"Lynn? You should stop by her shop. You'd like her. She needed more shelves, and Woodrow's working on a big project for Sheri's kitchen."
"Really?" Midu got distracted by that news. "Sheri doesn't cook."
"No, but Morgan does, and he told Woodrow that Sheri's kitchen is pitiful."
Midu laughed. Most of the houses in Emerald Hills had been built in the days of small kitchens and big dining rooms. Guests didn't mingle with the cook. She had to knock down a wall to make her kitchen the size she wanted. "Houses in the suburbs have bigger kitchens."
"Depends on the era," Kyle said. "If you cross the river to the rich additions around Jess and Lindsay's winery, people put in huge, expensive kitchens, but rarely use them. They'd rather eat out."
