by Regina Hart
“Stan? Are you sure?” Ramona tapped Megan’s shoulder with the wand she used as part of her witch costume. “Perhaps you should check again.”
“I’m. Positive.” Megan could barely breathe through her anger. She imagined breaking Ramona’s wand into bits.
Ramona waved the wand dismissively. “What do you want me to do about it?”
Megan’s eyes stretched wide. “You hired Stan Crockett—the town drunk—to read Halloween-themed children’s books to our customers’ kids.”
It was the third Saturday of October, the day Books & Bakery hosted its annual Halloween costume party and children’s story time. Megan heard the virtual flushing of her afternoon event as it plunged down the figurative toilet. Ramona either couldn’t hear it or didn’t care.
“Nice costume party, Megan.” Quincy’s comment was barely audible above the angry buzzing in Megan’s ears and the laughter of children enjoying the Halloween games arranged around the store.
Megan turned to find Quincy standing in a semicircle with Darius and Ean. The Terrible Trio reunited and standing in her grandparents’ bookstore. She’d stepped back in time. However, each man had donned the bare minimum to be considered in costume. Quincy had pulled on a football jersey and a pair of faded blue jeans. Darius wore a gray stitch fedora. The name tag on his teal sweater read: MEMBER OF THE PRESS.
Megan stared at Ean’s blue jeans, black jersey and the white bandanna tied around his head. “What are you supposed to be? A pirate?”
Ean adjusted the bandanna. “Not what, who. Deion Sanders.”
Did he truly believe the bandanna alone pegged him as the Hall of Fame former football player? Megan feared her eyes would burst from her head. “Is this the best the three of you could do? Seriously?”
“What are you supposed to be? An Egyptian princess?” Ean’s warm gaze slid over her.
Megan laid her damp palms on the skirt of her white lamé dress. “The goddess Isis.”
She reached behind her to spread the gold theatrical cape or “wings.” The heavy black eyeliner had been a pain to apply, even harder than wielding the hot comb to straighten the curl from her hair.
“I like it.” The intensity in Ean’s olive eyes made her stomach muscles quiver.
“Thanks.” Megan nervously checked the gold band wrapped around the top of her head. She felt the others staring between her and Ean, and fought the urge to fidget.
Quincy turned to Ramona. “Where’s your costume?”
Ramona’s eyes narrowed. “I wish this were a real wand. I’d turn you into a toad. Oh! Too late.”
“Ouch.” Darius chuckled.
“Afternoon, everyone.”
Megan turned at the newcomer’s greeting. “Sheriff, is that your costume?” She clenched her teeth to keep from snarling.
Sheriff Alonzo Lopez glanced at his tan shirt, black tie and spruce green gabardine pants. His cocoa eyes looked confused. “It’s my uniform. I’m on duty.”
Megan cut Darius a look for his inappropriate laughter. “I’m sorry, Sheriff.”
“No need to be.” His calm acceptance soothed Megan. “I took the afternoon shift so my deputies with families could take their children to your party. It’s a fun event for the kids.”
“That was nice of you.” Ramona gave him a sweet smile.
The older man’s shrug was uncomfortable. “Doreen looks very nice in her movie star outfit.”
“Doreen’s spoken for.” Darius’ smile teased the older man.
“Can’t a man appreciate a pretty woman without having any designs on her.” Alonzo turned to Ean. “No disrespect intended.”
“None taken.” Ean’s tense tone belied his words.
Alonzo nodded. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”
“Thanks for stopping by, Sheriff.” Megan laid her hand on his shoulder. “It’s always good to see you.”
Alonzo nodded before strolling away.
Ean caught Megan’s attention. “Dracula was singing inappropriate bar songs to your customers.”
Megan threw up her hands. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.”
Ean caught her arm as she started past him. “My mother brought him into the kitchen. She’s giving him coffee.”
The warmth of his touch through the sleeve of her costume made her shiver. Megan exhaled before addressing Ramona. “What were you thinking to hire Stan Crockett to read to a bunch of kids in our store?”
Quincy gaped at Ramona. “You hired him?”
Ramona’s ebony eyes were innocent. “He needed money.”
“To buy alcohol.” Megan wanted to throw back her head and scream. Why wouldn’t Ramona understand?
“It’ll be OK, Megan.” Ean released his hold on Megan’s arm.
She bit her lip to keep from protesting his withdrawal.
“Ean’s right, Meggie.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her cousin added insult to injury with that obnoxious nickname.
Ramona continued, unfazed. “Doreen’s giving him coffee. He’ll sober right up.”
“Have you seen him?” Megan’s throat ached under the strain of keeping her voice level.
Darius snorted. “There isn’t enough coffee in the store to sober up old Stan.”
Ramona frowned. “He promised me he wouldn’t drink before the reading.”
“He lied.” Quincy stated the obvious.
Ramona’s dark eyes snapped at him. “He said he needed work to rebuild his self-esteem and get off the alcohol.”
Megan took a deep breath. She counted to ten, then exhaled. “How are you going to fix this, Ramona?”
“Me?” Ramona pressed her index finger against her chest. “Why do I have to fix it?”
“Because . . .” Megan pressed her lips together, hating herself for not being able to stand up to her older cousin.
Quincy crossed his arms. “You hired him. You should be the one to fire him, Mona.”
“Don’t call me that.” Ramona gave the group a stubborn look. “Let’s wait and see. Once Stan’s sober, he’ll read to the children. It’ll boost his self-esteem, and your party’ll be a howling success, just as it always is.”
Megan’s skull started to ache. She was sympathetic to Stan. She really was. But Ramona had taken empathy to the edge of reason.
“The parents who brought their children here are on a schedule. So is the store.” Megan checked her red Timex. “The reading is supposed to start in seven minutes.”
“You and your schedules.” Ramona rolled her eyes. “What’ll happen if story time starts late? Will the kids turn into pumpkins?”
Darius bent over, laughing.
Megan thought her head would explode. “How long will it take for Stan to get sober?”
Quincy scratched his chin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sober.”
Darius shrugged. “There was that one time we saw him walking into the bar off Vine Street.”
“Oh, yeah.” Quincy nodded.
Megan closed her eyes briefly. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”
Just as she’d dealt with other messes Ramona had made of her plans. She turned to stomp away, but a firm grasp held her in place.
Her cousin’s sigh was suffering yet irritated. “I’ll handle Stan.” Ramona released her. She adjusted her pointed hat and smoothed her dress.
It really was a great costume. She’d gotten into the spirit of the event, as she always did. The long-sleeved black dress had a neckline that was just short of daring, a figure-hugging bodice and a pencil-thin, ankle-length skirt. The pointed black hat balanced at a cocky angle on her head. Spiders danced at the end of her dangling silver earrings. Skeleton-shaped charms hung from her necklace.
Megan wasn’t the only one who watched her cousin. Quincy’s mesmerized gaze followed Ramona’s every move.
Megan allowed herself to hope. “You’ll take Stan home?”
“Later.” Ramona shook her head. “Keep him in the kitchen, drinking coffee. I’ll take him home after I
read to the kids.”
“You’ll read to them?” Quincy’s voice rose with surprise.
Ramona’s dark gaze should have turned the university professor to ashes. “Contrary to your opinion, I can read.”
Megan’s headache disappeared. Her facial muscles relaxed into a smile. “Thanks, Ramona. Let’s get started.”
Before Ramona could have second thoughts, Megan grabbed her cousin’s arm and dragged her to the front of the store. She delivered Ramona to the Halloween reading area, which she, Doreen and their student helpers had created.
After announcing story time, Megan gingerly made her way through the sea of children sprawled on the floor around Ramona. They listened, enraptured, as she started the first Halloween story. Megan had seated her cousin in an ornate red velvet throne that doubled as Santa’s chair during the Christmas season. Today, two large human skulls were staked to the seat’s high back, and two smaller ones were driven onto the chair’s arms—all fake, of course.
“What a relief.” Megan sighed as she joined Ean, Darius and Quincy at the perimeter of the entertainment.
“I told you it would work out.” Ean tossed her a smile.
“I wasn’t sure.” Megan felt his eyes on her. His attention made her self-conscious. She also felt powerful, sexy and aroused.
The children jumped after Ramona’s dramatic pause in the story. It was a talent her cousin had perfected by tormenting a much younger Megan. Ramona adopted different voices for each character in the creepy tale.
“The witch saved Halloween.” Quincy’s voice was thoughtful.
“Now there’s a headline.” Darius unwrapped the piece of chocolate he’d taken from a candy bowl. The crystal bowl was in the shape of a fake, decaying hand. Megan’s staff had placed several of them around the store.
Ean came to Ramona’s defense. “Sometimes Ramona can surprise you with a generous act. She’s not as aloof as she sometimes seems.”
Ean spoke with affection. The bubble of feminine power in which Megan had been basking popped. She fought the urge to withdraw into herself.
How could she have entertained even for one second the smallest kernel of hope that Ean Fever could ever give her a second look—especially with Ramona around?
CHAPTER 8
“What movie do you want to see tonight?” Ean drained his glass of water Thursday morning. He’d been home for almost a month. He rose from his seat at the kitchen table to add the glass to the dishwasher.
Sharing breakfast with his mother was like old times. The difference was his father should have been at the table, too. He should be the one getting ready for work.
Ean struggled free from the weight of grief. After his mother left for work, he’d go for his morning jog. Would he see Megan in the park again? He couldn’t stop thinking of their near kiss three weeks ago—and how badly he wished she hadn’t run from him.
“I thought I’d make us dinner tonight.” His mother’s response interrupted his thoughts.
“You wouldn’t rather go out? My treat.” Ean returned to the table to collect his mother’s empty breakfast dishes.
“I’d assumed as much.” Doreen’s smile was unsteady. “But I’d rather stay in for dinner. Just the two of us. And a friend.”
“Who?” Ean stacked her dishes in the dishwasher, then closed its door before facing his mother.
Doreen hesitated. “Leo. I want the two of you to get reacquainted.”
Ean leaned against the kitchen counter for support. “You mean you want me to accept him as your boyfriend.”
Doreen inclined her head. “At my age, the term ‘boyfriend’ sounds odd, but you’re essentially right.”
It did sound odd to say his mother had a boyfriend, but Ean would embrace that word, if only to avoid the images associated with alternative terms. “I’m not going to stand in the way of your dating Coach George, but there’s no reason for me to spend time with him.”
“Yes, there is. I’m not going to divide my life into two halves just because you’re uncomfortable with my relationship with Leo.”
Ean recognized the determination in Doreen’s warm brown eyes. She’d been giving him that look all of his life—when he protested eating his vegetables, doing his homework or cleaning his room. Now she was giving him that steely regard because he didn’t want to spend time with her boyfriend. How their relationship had changed.
He crossed his arms and tried to stand his ground. “I’m not asking you to. If you want to have dinner with him tonight, I’ll make other plans.”
Doreen narrowed her eyes. “What if I want to have dinner with both of you?”
“We’re not a family, Mom.” Ean regretted the flash of pain that crossed his mother’s round face at his quietly spoken words.
“I’m not trying to replace your father. I just want . . . a friend.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “And I want you to accept that.”
Ean let his arms drop. “How can I do that?” His throat burned at the sadness in his mother’s eyes, but he wasn’t ready to accept her new relationship.
“Have dinner with us tonight.” Doreen spun on the heels of her white-pink-and-blue cross-training gym shoes. She strode from the kitchen.
His mother sounded impatient. What did she have to be upset about? He was the one stuck in some bizzaro version of his life. He’d thought his mother was a stay-at-home widow. Instead, she had a new man and a full-time job.
Even her appearance had changed. She’d cut her hair. Her wardrobe seemed filled with brighter colors and more modern styles. He hardly recognized her. Was Coach George the cause of all of these changes? Resentment knotted his stomach muscles.
Ean followed her. “I was worried about your being alone. With Dad gone, I thought you’d be at loose ends.”
Doreen looked as confused as Ean felt. “I wasn’t.” She collected her purple shoulder bag from the dining room’s corner table, then continued toward the coat closet in the front hallway.
“I came home to keep you company.”
She gave him a startled look over her shoulder. “I never asked you to.”
Ean crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m your son. You don’t have to ask me.”
“But it’s been almost a year.” She pulled her cream-colored wool coat from the closet. “Ean, you needed to come home for you, not for me. And that’s fine. This is your home.”
Really? It doesn’t feel that way anymore. “I don’t like it that you’re working.” He sighed. “Or dating.”
Doreen shrugged into her coat. “I can tell. But I’ve earned the right to make my own decisions.”
“Am I supposed to stand aside even if I think you’re making a mistake, several of them?”
Doreen settled the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Over the years, I haven’t agreed with all of your choices, either. I didn’t think you should have accepted the job with the law firm in New York, but I knew it was what you wanted.”
“But I—”
“And it may surprise you to know that Ramona isn’t my first choice for you or my second. Or my tenth. But I respected your right to make your own decision. Are you going to deny me the same respect?”
Ean dragged a hand over his hair. “My situation was different. Your grief over losing Dad could be affecting your decision making.”
There was concern in Doreen’s eyes as she searched Ean’s features. “Has your grief affected your decision making?”
“No.”
“Neither has mine.”
“But you were his wife.”
Doreen sighed. Her gaze dropped to the tiled floor. “And we were together for more than forty years. Still, I considered my options before I made my decisions. These aren’t whims. They’re choices. Mine.”
Ean had run out of arguments. He was at a loss. “All right, Mom. I’ll respect that.”
Doreen stepped forward, cupped the right side of Ean’s face with one hand and kissed his left cheek. “You don’t have a choice. Have a nice day.�
�� With those words, she left for work.
Ean stared at the closed front door. This homecoming wasn’t going at all the way he’d imagined. Had he made a mistake coming back to Trinity Falls?
Megan looked up from her grandparents’ headstones Thursday afternoon. In the distance, a couple of rows away, she saw a solitary mourner standing with his head bowed before a grave site. Ean.
He was so still. Megan hesitated. She didn’t want to intrude on his private time, but she sensed his thoughts were troubled. She lowered her gaze to her grandparents’ headstones again and silently said good-bye.
She wanted to leave. She actually started to leave. But her steps drew her closer to Ean. “Would you rather be alone?”
He looked up, startled. “I didn’t hear you.”
Megan nodded over her shoulder toward the headstones that were imprinted on her heart. “Today would have been my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary.”
Ean returned her smile. “I’m sure they’re celebrating together.”
The warmth of his smile and the sincerity of his words stole her breath. Megan swallowed to dislodge the lump in her throat.
“I think so, too.” She was uncomfortable with the emotion he may have heard in her voice. “Is today a special occasion for your father?”
She read again his father’s headstone: Paul Fever, 1948 to 2013, Loving Husband and Father.
His expression grew somber. “I’m just paying my respects.”
It was more than that. Megan heard it in his taut tone. He sounded lost. She fisted her hands deeper into her navy blue winter coat to keep from touching him. That was Ramona’s prerogative.
“Your father was well liked and well respected in the community.”
Ean returned his attention to his father’s headstone. “Everything seems different with him gone.”
“Everything changed for me when my grandparents died, too.”
“I didn’t expect my mother to change as well. I barely recognize her anymore.” He caught her gaze. “You hired her to run the bakery in your bookstore.”
Megan heard the accusation in his words. “Your parents had been high school sweethearts. Your father’s death left your mother devastated.”
