She chanced a look at Nico as he squeezed into Elena’s pillow fort. His attention was fixed on the little girl’s story and Charlotte tried not to laugh at his awkward posture.
Charlotte wandered to the bookshelf and smiled to see the familiar titles. It was strange to see so many books in one place besides the library. And her own house, of course. She ran her finger over the spines, pausing at Stuart Little. The dust jacket looked very old, maybe even from one of the first printings. She carefully pulled it from the shelf and stared at the front cover.
A voice at her elbow made her jump. “You have a good taste,” Nico said. “First edition. My father found a collection of E.B White and gave it to me for my graduation.” His voice had gone soft.
“It’s a wonderful edition.” She wanted to page through it but wondered if he felt protective of the book and that was why he’d gotten out of the fort. She glanced at his face, trying to read his expression. Maybe his mother’s invitation had annoyed him and he was covering it well. When Charlotte delivered cinnamon rolls last week, they’d sat on his porch, where it was safely neutral. He’d been inside her little kitchen, of course, but that was different. She was renting. This was clearly his personal space and he struck her as a very private man. She had to remember that, as close as she felt to him, he probably still saw her as an outsider, a stranger. She stepped back, giving him more personal space. He looked up and met her gaze, a question forming in his dark eyes.
“This is delicious cake, dear,” Demetria said. “Is your mother’s recipe?”
Charlotte searched for words, jerked back into the conversation. “No, it’s from my best friend, Sahil and she makes it so much better. It didn’t rise the way it should have.”
“Maybe you whip the egg white too much?” Demetria asked gently.
“Oh? Maybe so.” Charlotte poked at the slice on her plate. It was pretty flat. And chewy. And sort of crumbly. In fact, the hole in the middle was the only resemblance to the photo on the internet.
“Perhaps cake flour next time,” Demetria said. “Less gluten. Not so tough.”
Nico mumbled something in Greek under his breath.
“And make sure the oven is hot. Cold ovens make it sticky,” his mother said, clearly ignoring her son.
Nico fixed his mother with a look, dark brows lowered over his eyes.
“It’s really fine,” Charlotte said to Nico. “I need the help. I should have paid more attention when Sahil made it.”
“It’s hard enough to bring a cake to a professional baker without getting a list of ways to improve it,” he said. “Don’t you think, Mama?”
Charlotte noted the way Nico said ‘mama’, with the emphasis on the last syllable so it sounded almost French. And then she processed the rest of his words and sat back. “Professional baker?”
“Oh, not professional. Just baking long time. I own Demi’s Delights, the café downtown. You should stop sometime. Coffee and loukoumades on me,” she said. “Loukoumades are like doughnut. And your cake is very tasty. Really. Very good.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte mustered. She stared down at her plate and tried not to sigh. She should have known better. Arcadia Valley was a place where women not only knew how to cook, sew, and raise livestock. They also ran successful businesses.
Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she didn’t belong in this place. Life wasn’t like the movies, where someone simply wished themselves into a profession. You had to be born into it, had to be part of generations of people who had learned, lived, and practiced the art of country life. She should just go back to Fresno where she actually knew what she was doing.
The only problem with that plan was that she’d been so certain she wouldn’t come back that she’d sold her condo, quit her job, and told everyone she was moving away for good. Her stomach clenched at the thought of reapplying for a position at her old library. She hadn’t left on bad terms exactly, but she’d been so thrilled it might have been a little unseemly. She should get an honorary bridge burner badge for the way she’d gleefully and publicly crossed off every day on her calendar.
Charlotte couldn’t meet Nico’s gaze. How naïve she’d been, how short-sighted and unprepared to think she could simply walk into this life and make it a success.
“Soon, strawberries are ready and we have lots of angel food cake at the cafe,” Demetria said. “We have a big party at church. Lots of cake. Lots of strawberries.”
Charlotte straightened her shoulders and looked up. Demetria was clearly trying to distract Charlotte from the fact her cake was a failure. She wasn’t going to have a pity party right there at the table. She’d wait until she got home for that.
“I’ve always thought working in a cafe would be fun. And I bet you’re very connected to the community because you run a local business.”
“It’s a family thing,” Demetria said.
“How so?” As she spoke, she thought of Sahil’s teasing about finding Nico online but she couldn’t reconcile that with his profession as a butcher.
“I own what some call an artisanal butcher shop,” Nico said. “I use grass fed, humanely raised animals but have the traditional house charcuterie, various boudins, and hand cut Angus steaks. My father was an expert at creating unique sausages―”
“Tequila and chicken,” Demetria said, laughing. “Sounds bad, tastes good.”
“I just stick with the usual. You know, English back bacon, jerky, pulled pork, some liverwurst. The online orders are usually for the local bison or elk, but sometimes…” He grimaced. “Sorry, I get carried away.”
“It sounds wonderful and I want to visit. You said it was on Main Street. What’s the name of the shop?”
“Delis Sausages. I’m the Delis in the title,” he said, tapping his chest.
Charlotte started to laugh. “Delis? Oh, that explains a lot.”
“Does it?”
“You see, every place I went, people mentioned you and deli sausage. I thought the town was crazy.”
“That would be weird,” he said, chuckling.
“Is it just me, or is everybody in this town really…” Charlotte waved a hand. “Creative. Talented. I’m not sure what the word is, but everyone here knows how to do everything.”
“No, not everything,” Demetria said. “We can’t do everything. We’re blessed with one thing. Maybe two. Then we share.”
Charlotte thought of how the world would be if everyone shared their talents. But of course she wasn’t sure what she would trade. She’d told herself not to feel bad but she couldn’t help it. Elena could probably bake a better angel food cake. She tried to smile. On the outside, she was sitting politely at the table having cake. Inside, she was enjoying a big bowl of struggle puffs.
“I want to be like that. I do. But I don’t have anything to give.”
Demetria’s eyes went wide. “What? No, no. You’re the librarian. Everybody needs librarian. When my Nico was little, he almost live at the library.”
“Mrs. Duncan was a big reason why I got a degree in children’s literature. When she died last year, her funeral was attended by most of the town,” Nico said.
“Children’s literature?” Charlotte repeated. The graduation gift made even more sense now. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised that Nico had a college degree but she’d always imagined butchers fell into the profession. But like most people in this town, he was more than a degree or an occupation. He had facets and angles, surprising talents and quiet expertise.
“Mrs. Duncan’s a hard act to follow,” Nico said. “But you’re up to the task.”
“I’m not doing a very good job of it so far.” She couldn’t stop once she started. She was so worried, and there was no one else to confide in who wasn’t depending on her to solve the library’s problems. “When she passed away, the grants were left on her desk and didn’t get submitted. There’s no grant money for the summer reading program this year. It looks like we’ll be on a shoe string budget. Or something a few levels below sh
oe string, if possible because they told me the central heating needed repairs and that’s not something we can do without in this area.”
“No summer reading program?” Elena asked.
“I can’t see how,” Charlotte said.
Nico frowned. “Why not have a fundraiser? We’ve done it before. I’m sure everyone would love to help support the library.”
“The board was thinking the same thing but they haven’t gotten back to me about it yet. Plus, we’re not sure what kind. Car wash? Bake sale? The grant the last several years was fifteen hundred dollars and I’m not sure a car wash could raise that much.”
Demetria clapped her hands. “I saw a great thing. A silent auction to help Syrian refugees. Everybody donate something. People bid on it. Businesses get advertising.”
“Great idea. Think of all the businesses we have here,” Nico said.
Charlotte nodded but could only think of a few. She wasn’t sure a silent auction of Greek doughnuts, garden fencing and gourmet sausages would raise much money.
“I call around tomorrow. Let me find people.”
“Well, if you’re not too busy. I’d love the help.” For weeks Charlotte had been turning the problem over and over in her mind, unsure which direction to take. Ron and Elise were optimistic, but she hadn’t seen any firm plans since the meeting. Any step would be better than staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping at night.
“I want to help, too,” Elena said. “I can draw. I’ll start right now.” She rushed away to find paper.
“Let me call around, too,” Nico said. “I’m sure there are lots of people who want to help the library. We just didn’t know there was a gap in the funding.”
Charlotte swallowed back sudden tears. She’d felt so alone in the last few weeks. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you. All of you.”
“You can rely on us for anything you need.” His dark eyes were somber and his hand moved, as if he wanted to reach out to her but thought better of it. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Don’t you worry,” Demetria said. She made the move her son had not, and reached out to pat her arm.
She looked around the table at her new friends and hope tugged at her heart. God was faithful and she needed to trust that He knew the best way to make her dreams a reality, even if that meant a dozen car washes and too many bake sales to count.
Chapter 11
“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.”
― Ingrid Bergman
Nico watched emotions flash in Charlotte’s tear-filled eyes and his heart answered. His mother had moved on to listing people who might participate in the auction but Nico couldn’t focus on the conversation. They’d sat on his front porch and talked for hours, but Charlotte hadn’t confided in him. Maybe there were other things bothering her and he’d missed them, too.
He’d noticed that she hadn’t planted anything yet and the last frost date had finally passed. Nico wondered if she knew, but wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. She might feel like he was over explaining something she’d already researched, but being a bad friend was a greater worry.
“You’re frowning.” The words filtered through his thoughts and he glanced at Charlotte in surprise. Her tone was light but she was already standing. “Thank you for inviting me for cake, but I should get back home.”
“Oh, no. It’s not… It wasn’t about…” He awkwardly pushed back his chair and stood. He didn’t want to lie to her. His frown was about her, but not the way she thought. Maybe he could ask her about the planting if they were alone. “Can I walk you back?”
He saw indecision cross her face and cringed inside. Glancing at his mother, he realized a simple walk to the border of their properties just got complicated.
Charlotte’s lips tilted up. “Sure.”
His mother bustled around the table, gathering plates. “Don’t hurry back. I’ll do these dishes.”
Nico wanted to say he wasn’t going to be gone for hours but decided to let it go. Elena was busy drawing what looked like her tenth donation to the auction. He walked over and kissed her on the top of her head. “Be right back,” he said.
“Bye, Papa,” Elena said, barely looking up. “Bye, Charlotte.”
“See you, Elena.” Charlotte headed for the door but then turned back. “I’m planting my garden tomorrow. Would you like to help? If it’s okay with your dad, I mean.”
“Can I?” Elena had jumped to her feet. “Please, Papa?”
“Of course,” he said, but held up a finger. “Just promise you’ll listen to Charlotte and follow her directions.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be teaching me,” Charlotte said, laughing. “I need a helper.”
“Yes, tomorrow good because Sunday is church,” his mother said coming in from the kitchen. “Then lunch. You come, Charlotte.”
“Oh, I couldn’t impose,” she said, blue eyes going wide.
“Church is not imposing.”
Nico didn’t know whether to laugh or shrug. His mother was definitely testing out Charlotte’s church-going habits. “It’s a really long service. You can meet us for lunch after,” he said.
“Why?” His mother turned to him, shock on her face. “Is not that long. We pray. Then lunch.”
“I’d love to go,” Charlotte said quickly.
“See? She love to go,” his mother said and with one last pointed look at Nico, took the leftover cake to the kitchen.
Nico motioned Charlotte toward the door. Since she was planting tomorrow, he didn’t really have a reason to walk her home now.
She smiled shyly at him as they stepped off the porch but he waited until they were crossing the lawn before he said quietly, “You really don’t have to go. Greek Orthodox liturgies are long. Really long. Three hours or more.”
“Oh,” she said, quickly covering her surprise. “I’ve never been to one. It would be interesting.” She turned, touching his sleeve. “Was that rude? I don’t mean ‘interesting’ like it’s a movie or anything. I just meant …”
“I’m usually the one stumbling over my words.”
She laughed and dropped her hand. Nico had the sudden urge to reach out and take it back.
“It’s going to be a trial by fire. Long church service full of foreign words and then suffering through lunch with the Delis family. Lunch with us is a little crazy. Have I ever told you I have three brothers?”
They pushed through the lilacs and reached the fence. She turned to him and said, “You didn’t. But if they’re anything like you, I won’t be suffering one bit.”
She was flirting with him. He’d had women flirt with him before, and often. But none that he really welcomed. He searched for something witty to say but his mind had gone completely blank.
“Well, thanks for walking me back,” she said, one shoulder going up ever-so slightly. She probably didn’t know she’d done it, but he heard her unspoken question. He didn’t need to walk her a few hundred feet across the grass. She wasn’t going to get lost or attacked by wild bunnies.
Nico wanted to say something but all he could think of was how Charlotte fit perfectly into his life. From the way she encouraged Elena, to her passion for books, to her dedication to learning how to garden, to sitting with his mother and enjoying cake. He felt like Charlotte got it. She understood. She was real.
He took a step forward and he watched those beautiful blue eyes widen. Every detail of the moment appeared in sharp relief. The lilac bushes brushed the top of her head and the blooms surrounded them with a sweet scent. Filtering through the leaves, the sun dappled her skin with light.
“Charlotte,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Your boyfriend in Fresno. Is he―”
“No. No boyfriend.” She sounded breathless. “I don’t have a boyfriend. At all.”
“Oh. Good,” he said. His gaze dropped to her lips and he bent his head slightly. He was caught between surprise at his own beha
vior and a desperate yearning to kiss her.
“Good?”
Later, Nico would go over and over the moment, trying to piece together who had moved forward or which of them had given the first sign, but all he could remember was her voice. It was crazy to say that he’d reached out for her simply because it hadn’t been quite as strong, but it was the truth. He heard in those soft syllables the same shimmering possibility that had been hovering at the edges of his heart. Maybe ― just maybe ― this was a second chance at love.
He wrapped an arm gently around her waist and she fit perfectly against him. She smelled wonderful, like strawberries and spring. Her hand rested against his chest, right over his heart.
“Charlotte,” he said.
He could hear her breathing softly. Lifting one hand he brushed a thumb across her cheek, feeling the heat of her skin. She turned her head a little and her eyes went half-closed.
“Yes,” she whispered, and it was all breath this time. She rested her other hand against his arm and he wanted to freeze the moment so he could absorb every detail of her expression, how it felt to be so close to her.
Her eyes drifted closed and she lifted her head, lips slightly parted. So many times he’d said he had to wait until it was calmer, less chaotic, and Elena was older. He realized in that moment it hadn’t been about timing at all. He just hadn’t met the right woman.
Somehow she was much closer to him now, just inches apart, although he didn’t remember tightening his hold on her. He had one last thought before he lowered his head: it felt right. It was perfectly, completely, and indisputably right.
* * *
Charlotte lifted her face to Nico and waited, every cell in her body crying out for his kiss. She’d known from the moment they’d met that he was different. No man had made her consider her own heart the way Nico had, and they’d never been closer than a foot apart ― until now. Her pulse hammered in her veins as she felt a whisper of breath against her lips. She had never wanted a kiss so badly in her life.
Romance Grows in Arcadia Valley (Arcadia Valley Romance Book 0) Page 7
