LOVE in a Small Town

by Janet Eaves

  What a shame. A few moments earlier as she’d put the Battenburg lace coverlet onto her high four-poster antique bed, she’d surprised herself by idly thinking what it might be like to kiss Martin McClain again. Et cetera.

  Since it was now killing, and not kissing, on the agenda, she decided she’d call and order him to come over here right this second!

  No! She’d go to his office, stand over him at his desk, and scream at him!

  No! She’d….

  Footsteps on the wooden stair treads had her snapping her head around. Had she fallen into the Legendarian habit of leaving doors unlocked? The door at the top of the stairs opened, and there stood her handsome nemesis.

  “You! How dare you! Are you here to laugh? To gloat?” She sat up and glared at him.

  The look on his face went from pleasant to confused, to something that could easily turn into angry.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “What’s wrong? Ha! As if you don’t know!”

  “Okay! Yeah. As if I don’t. Why are we yelling?” Deep furrows showed between his brows, evidencing his confusion.

  “How did you expect me to react when I saw it?”

  He met her black-eyed glare. “Saw what?”

  Her only answer was to cross her arms back across her chest, lean back, and look straight up. Martin looked up too.

  “Has that been up there the whole time?” he asked. He eased himself down onto the love seat.

  “Well, one would think, with you being the realtor….”

  “Okay, just stop! I see there’s a mirrored ceiling. I didn’t know it before. Didn’t notice.”

  “Typical man,” she muttered.

  “Hey!” He looked up again. “Well, okay, whatever. I didn’t notice.” He shook his head and chuckled a little. “If you’d known the previous owners, you might have more of a sense of humor about it. Just think of the mirror as a bonus. Now, come on, Miz Shelby, you’re not shocked, are you?”

  “Shocked?” She was, in a way, but would die before admitting it to him. She looked up at the ceiling, hoping to think of something cutting to say. But she met his eyes in the mirror, and noticed again that they were the color of dark chocolate. Good for you. Packed with antioxidants. She licked her lips without thinking, and saw in the mirror the reflection of herself doing so. Saw him watching her. Caught her breath at the look in his eyes. Was that hunger? Lust? Midnight’s throat was suddenly dry and her heart was beating a little too quickly.

  Unable—or unwilling—to stop looking at the huge mirror, she watched as the reflection of his narrowed eyes bore into the reflection of hers, saw the nostrils flare just a bit.

  “So, what are you going to do about it?” she softly asked into the mirror.

  “It’s your ceiling. That decision’s one you’ll have to make, Miz Shelby.” He’d relaxed now and was baiting her. “You can tear it down, I guess. Or…enjoy it.” One eyebrow rose as he spoke. She watched it in the mirror, wondering if that were the right or left brow. Hard to get it straight in a mirror. Sort of.

  “You’re disgusting, Mr. McClain.”

  “I don’t believe you mean that, Miz Shelby. I believe you’re thinking about it.” He stretched his arm out along the back of the love seat.

  She knew what he meant, thinking about it. She’d never admit he was right. Martin and her on the Battenburg lace….

  ****

  “So maybe you’ll decide to just make the best of it.” His voice was soft, sultry. He tentatively moved his hand from the upholstery a few inches toward her, mentally calculating which direction, how far, in reverse. Making his move in a mirror was more complicated than doing it the usual way. Every time he dealt with this woman, there was some kind of challenge. But he wasn’t a man known for backing down. He hadn’t planned to touch her. But the sparks they struck off each other lit a hot flame in him, and damned if he was going to continue to ignore it. He’d been ignoring too much too long. He was hungry—for a taste of something imported.

  Martin saw his hand touch the top of her head, felt his fingers comb through the silky hair, trail down to her shoulder. The pale skin displayed by the wide boat neck of her black knit shirt was driving him crazy. From her shoulder, his hand moved delicately along her collarbone to her slender white neck. He felt a strong, erratic pulse in her throat. He also felt her jump just a little as he made contact with her beautiful skin. She didn’t pull away—not with her body, not with her eyes. But her eyelids did flutter a little. That told Martin he was affecting her. Every sensation in his own body, and there were many, told him she was affecting him, and strongly.

  ****

  Midnight’s eyes were riveted to the mirror as she watched Martin McClain’s hand make love to her hair, collarbone and throat. Those long fingers, strong but not rough, could have belonged to a violinist. They were that talented. How could such a simple touch be so erotic? And how could watching it make it even more so? She didn’t know what he’d do next, but had an idea she’d enjoy it tremendously. Maybe right now she would take her hand and….

  “Hey! Anybody in here?”

  They jumped up from the love seat just as footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  Chapter Six

  Daniel Martin McClain burst into the room after clattering up the wooden stairs.

  “Geez, Dad. What’s wrong? You look weird.”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Daniel, except you’re supposed to be at Joe’s. What’s up with you?” He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and sidestepped behind a large box as he spoke.

  “Um, Dad, I told you I had a computer thing to do today. Remember? Geez.” He rolled his eyes as only a teenager can do.

  “A computer thing, sure. That pretty much describes your life. Why are you here?”

  “Miz Shelby asked…” The boy looked at Midnight.

  “He’s here because I hired him. Daniel’s going to create a website for me. And for a few of the other business owners, for a start. We’re going to get one put together for the town of Legend and as many individual businesses as want to participate.”

  “Yeah, Dad, and then I said we can link it to the county site, and that’s linked to the site for the state.”

  Midnight broke in again, caught up in the excitement of the topic and leaving the excitement of her interlude with Martin behind. “And my parents have a site they market their stuff on, and my mom has a poetry blog. They’ll link those to my site here, since I’m going to sell some of my dad’s Native American art and of course Mom’s books. And then when….”

  “Wait right there! What are you talking about?” Martin’s face looked rather purple, and he came out from behind the box, hands out of his pockets now.

  “We’re talking about marketing Legend,” Midnight answered. “No reason to have all this natural beauty, eating and shopping opportunities, relaxation to the max, and not share it with the world! We’re going to bring people from all over right here to Legend, and when they see what we’ve got, they’ll tell their friends, and they’ll come see.”

  Midnight walked across to look out one of the large windows. “Some of them will want to move here. Good for the real estate market, of course! With the power of the ‘net, there’s no telling how far Legend can go.”

  She spun toward Martin again. “Isn’t that exciting? And Daniel’s just the I.T. guy we need. He’s great with web design. I mean, your site is fantastic, for a small town realtor. Well. Maybe that wasn’t the ideal phrasing, but it is really good, and Betsy said….”

  “Stop! Stop talking!” Martin threw a hand up in a plea for silence. “Good Lord, woman, how many words can you get in on one breath? Just stop and let me try to digest this. You’ve hired my son to create websites for the local businesses and bring a bunch of outsiders in here?”

  “Well, it’s business, Martin,” she said quietly. “You have to have outsiders to buy the products, you know. Legend can’t support itself without bringing people in.” She looked at hi
m searchingly. “You know that, right?”

  Silence. Martin’s face turned a deeper shade of purple.

  “Let’s go, Son.” He headed to the top of the staircase.

  “But Dad!”

  “Let’s go.” The look that passed between them was like a lightning storm. But after a few moments Daniel dropped his head and walked toward the staircase too. “Geez.”

  “Martin McClain! This is not the end of it!” she shouted as they descended the steps. “You can’t avoid progress forever! You’ll kill this town!” Then she bit her tongue because she didn’t want to say any more with Daniel present. He was a good kid. And he certainly seemed to have more foresight than his father. Daniel deserved to have a future in Legend if he wanted to keep living here as an adult. But if attitudes like Martin’s prevailed, there wouldn’t be a future for anyone in Legend.

  ****

  “And then he stomped down the stairs and out the door, all self-righteous. As if I’d done something wrong!”

  “Well, you hadn’t…exactly.”

  Not what Midnight expected to hear. “I hadn’t, exactly?”

  She sat at the white wrought iron table with Betsy, in the large kitchen/dining area above Midnight’s store. It was late Sunday afternoon and they were enjoying some white chocolate cappuccino. Decaf cappuccino, in deference to Betsy’s condition. This was Midnight’s celebration for having put her living quarters together in one weekend. Martin’s sister Chloe had helped most of the day, but couldn’t stay longer because she had to finish a painting.

  Betsy shook her head, and her golden curls caught the light. “You should’ve asked Martin. Remember? I told you: be sure to ask Martin before you say anything to Daniel. Now, I don’t know. Martin doesn’t forgive easily. And he loves this town. He wants the best for it. The way you explained things may have put him off.”

  Put him off? Set him off was more like it. But no way did Midnight think any of it was her fault. Martin was just too old-fashioned and stuck in a rut.

  “I can get someone else. Someone from away. There are probably millions of people who create websites. I just wanted to give Daniel the chance.”

  “That was a good thought,” said Betsy, draining her cup and placing it carefully in the saucer. “But you can’t give Daniel a chance unless you work with Martin. That’s not fair to either of them. You don’t want to hurt their relationship, Midnight. Think about that.”

  “Think about the town!”

  “I am thinking about the town. We need to get more people in here to do the touristy things, shop in the stores, stay in the B&B. I don’t know what’ll happen with the factory they’re talking about bringing in here. I’m not saying what you want to do is wrong, but you’ve started off bad.” She sighed. “Not just about Daniel. You’ve got to get Martin and some of the other guys in Legend thinking outside the box, like they say on TV. I think men have a harder time doing that than we women do.”

  Betsy patted her large round tummy. “Legend’s biggest export is our kids, when they get out of school, especially the really smart ones. To get good jobs they have to go somewhere else. We know that. It’s been that way for years. We just don’t know what to do about it. I’m not sure a factory is any kind of an answer.”

  “Betsy, you can talk to Martin. Reason with him. He’ll listen to you. I’d bet on it.”

  “I don’t know. He has a double dose of the McClain bullheadedness.” She sighed. “Poor Daniel. I’ll bet he got an ear full on the way home yesterday.”

  “You’re right. I feel awful about that. He’s such a neat kid. So smart. He’ll go far, especially considering how advanced he is at thirteen. But he won’t be able to go far and stay in Legend at the same time. Do you see that?”

  “I do. But I don’t know if Martin does.”

  “Maybe that’s the way you need to approach it when you talk to Martin.”

  “Maybe that’s the way you need to approach it, Midnight. The more I think about this, the more I believe you need to be the one to explain it to Martin. I know he’s set in his ways. No one knows it better than I do. But he treats me like a kid sister, and I don’t think he’d take me seriously if I tried to talk to him about it. Plus, you have the background and the vocabulary for all this business stuff. I’m just a small town girl.” She dropped her eyes and twisted a tendril of her hair around a forefinger.

  Midnight looked hard at sweet, innocent Betsy’s halo of blond curls. Was she trying to get out of this for some other reason? But could Midnight try to force little pregnant Betsy into an unpleasant encounter with big, noisy Martin? No. She’d have to do it herself. But she would let him cool down some first.

  Chapter Seven

  “Midnight? Remember the Christmas Eve service at seven,” said Dorothy McClain when Midnight saw her in the checkout line of the Piggly Wiggly. “Should be beautiful.” She looked more closely at Midnight. “You okay, honey?”

  “Yes, fine. Just tired, I guess.” Midnight picked up her bag of groceries and moved aside so Dorothy could check out.

  “Oh! Looky, Mommy! It’s snowing!” A little girl with red braids exclaimed, pointing out the window.

  Midnight felt a little smile on her lips. She did love snow. If there was a nice snowfall, surely that would get her into the Christmas spirit. She felt pretty low right now, and wasn’t sure precisely why.

  Dorothy paid the clerk, picked up her bags, and walked toward the door with Midnight. “Isn’t that perfect?”

  “The snow? Very nice.” She walked along with Dorothy, as the big fluffy snowflakes started to come down more quickly. “I’m surprised Legend stores don’t do more for Christmas. The snow will be so pretty, but other than the big tree in the front yard of the Old Meeting House, there isn’t much holiday décor. How pretty the town would be if all the Main Street stores were outlined in white Christmas lights.”

  Dorothy shook her head. “No money for it, dear. Remember, Legend is in a recession all its own. The store owners are lucky to keep their businesses open. Extras are out of the question—like Christmas lights and the electricity to run them. I agree with you that it would look delightful, of course.”

  “Like the perfect representation of small town Christmas.” She shrugged. If the store owners couldn’t afford it, there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Especially not on Christmas Eve. “Maybe next year.”

  “Maybe,” Dorothy said. “Then again, the way things have been going, by next Christmas, things could be even worse. I don’t want to put my hopes in that factory. It goes against the grain to expect our town to be bailed out of a bad situation by outsiders.” She dumped her groceries into the back floorboard of her car. “No offense, Midnight. You’re not an outsider anymore, anyway. You’re one of us.”

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence, Dorothy. I’m a little more accepted, at least. But there’s so much to do for Legend…”

  “You’re just the one to lead the effort,” the older woman said, putting a hand on Midnight’s arm and gazing deeply into her eyes. “I have every confidence in you.” She smiled. “Seven o’clock at the Methodist Church, right?”

  “I’ll try to make it.”

  ****

  It was a little past seven when Midnight stepped out her front door. There were at least three inches of snow on the sidewalks, and it was still falling. Tire tracks marred its perfection in the street, but Midnight’s were the first footprints on the sidewalk, since most stores had closed at noon for Christmas Eve. She stepped back and looked at her display windows. They were beautiful, showcasing a local artist’s Santa dolls. Tiny white lights outlined the windows, and the big Christmas tree on the stage at the far end of the building was visible from here. It wasn’t overdone, but compared to the rest of the Main Street stores, it was a lot. Midnight sighed and, crossing Second Street, started walking south on Main. This darling little town could be such a draw if only the merchants and citizens could work together to reach its potential.

  A car qui
etly made its way west on First Street, its tires moving almost soundlessly in the snow. Maybe they were heading to the Christmas Eve service. A magical hush blanketed Legend. Midnight stopped and closed her eyes, holding her face to the sky. Big flakes landed on her face and she didn’t care. It was so peaceful. No sounds at all now, except her own reverent breathing. Then, in the distance, music began. She started walking again, following the sound to where she knew it emanated—the Methodist Church. Traditional Christmas carols, pipe organ, voices of all abilities lifted in wonder and praise. She arrived, went up the front steps but stood just outside the door and listened. It was her own private concert, enjoyed in the most beautiful of concert halls—Nature itself. The service was about 45 minutes long. Before the final “Amen,” Midnight was back down the steps and around the corner, taking a longer route home. She didn’t want to meet anyone, but also wasn’t in a rush to go indoors.

  Pleased with her secret enjoyment of the peaceful evening, Midnight was surprised when a voice called her name.

  “Miz Shelby! You missed church,” said Daniel.

  She stopped walking and went to the open window of the Jeep that had pulled up alongside her. “I know. I was there but didn’t go in. It sounded lovely.” She made eye contact with Daniel but not with his father.

  “Geez. You shoulda come into the church.” Daniel squinted. “You’re getting’ all snowy, Miz Shelby. Aren’t you awful cold?”

  She smiled. “Actually, I’m fine. Thank you, Daniel. Just enjoying a walk in the snow. It’s different here than in the city.”