A Cowboy for the Twins

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “You know Cedar Ridge doesn’t hold a lot of good memories for me,” he said. “Neither past nor present. I have no intention of sticking around here longer than I have to.”

  Too late, he realized how harsh that sounded. He tempered his comments with a smile. “We’ll have fun together, and once you move to Vancouver, then we’ll spend a whole lot more time together,” he said. “It’s a beautiful city, and the winters are much milder than our Alberta winters.”

  “We’ll see.” She gave him a sorrowful smile, and he could tell he hadn’t convinced her to leave yet. “I know you want me to sell the place. It’s too hard to run with hired help.” She waited a moment, holding his gaze with hers. “I guess I had always hoped you would come back,” she continued, sounding wistful. “And maybe now that you’re here...”

  “Please don’t,” he said, interrupting her hopeful words. “Cedar Ridge hasn’t been my home for a while, and certainly can’t be now.”

  “Does your father still have such a strong hold over you?”

  His mother’s mournful voice created a mixture of feelings. Resentment that she should ask when she knew precisely what he had gone through, blended with emotions he had struggled against for most of his life. Where had she been while his father was being so hard on him? Why hadn’t she stood up for him? Taken his side?

  “You haven’t forgiven him, have you?” she continued.

  Noah pulled in a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders, trying to settle the sorrow he knew he should have been done with long ago.

  “He’s not around to forgive, so it doesn’t really matter anymore does it? Besides, it’s memories too.” He gave his mother an apologetic smile.

  “I pray for you every day,” she said. “That you can find it in your heart to forgive your father. I think when you do, you will find your way back to your other Father. The one who loves you perfectly. His love will give you real peace.”

  “You don’t have to worry about my faith life,” he said finally, pushing down the wavering emotions his mother’s words created. For the past few years he and God had had an understanding. Noah wouldn’t bother God, and God wouldn’t bother him.

  Besides, God wouldn’t want to have much to do with someone who couldn’t even take care of his own employee.

  Someone who would never, ever be referred to as a hero.

  Like Shauntelle’s husband was.

  * * *

  “Mom, can I put those out?” Millie pointed to the cooler holding the layer cakes Shauntelle had spent hours baking last night and icing this morning. Her mother had let her use her car until she figured out what to do about transportation, but it was tiny and Shauntelle had worried about how the cakes would travel in the little hatchback.

  “I’ll take care of them, honey,” Shauntelle said, hurrying over. There was no way she was letting anything happen to those cakes after all the work she’d put into them.

  She had found the cakes while she was on Pinterest and plunged down the rabbit hole that is the internet. When she read the recipes, she was intrigued. If people liked them, they could be potential dessert menu items for her restaurant.

  “How long do we have to stay here?” Margaret asked, shivering as she pulled her jacket closer around her. “And why couldn’t we be inside today?”

  “Just a few weeks ago you were wishing we could be outside.” Shauntelle tapped her daughter playfully on her nose.

  Though she found the weather a bit cool herself, she was still glad to be outdoors. Last week they had set up in the multipurpose room of the old arena, stuck in a damp, echoing space that was always too noisy and cramped.

  The new arena couldn’t be completed soon enough, for the other members of the Farmer’s Market or her. Next week she could finally implement all the ideas roiling around in her head ever since she’d come up with her plan for a restaurant and snack bar.

  For a moment she felt a shiver of panic. What if all her plans for her own business were a waste of time and money? What if she was fooling herself, thinking people would want to come to her restaurant for dinner? Cedar Ridge already had the Brand and Grill in town, plus Angelo’s, and she heard the bakery had just set up a bistro.

  Was there room for her restaurant? Would she make enough to take care of herself and her daughters?

  She struggled to fight down the anxiety she always felt when doubts about her decision attacked her. And lately they’d been coming harder the closer she came to implementing them.

  But she wasn’t a quitter. She’d put her husband through med school, raised the girls on her bank salary while Roger pursued his dream and vision during his internship. She put in long hours to make sure they had the basics in life. And after Roger died, she dug back into her emotional reserve and carried on. She fought her own sorrow and put on a brave face for her daughters while her own heart was breaking. And now she was supporting her parents through their own grief over the loss of their son and her brother.

  As well as dealing with her own grief and anger.

  She hadn’t quit then, and she wasn’t about to quit now. Through it all she had depended on her Lord to give her the strength she needed, and He hadn’t failed her yet. Come what may, she knew she always had her faith.

  “That looks really nice, Mommy,” Margaret said, full of admiration as Shauntelle set out the third fancy layer cake.

  “I thought they turned out well,” she said, with a touch of pride, as she shifted the one chocolate cake with its fancy trimming to show it off the best. While she did, she imagined cakes, cheesecakes, pies and fancy squares lined up on shelves in a glass case at the entrance of her new restaurant, tempting the patrons even before they sat down to order dinner.

  She’d set up far too many boards on Pinterest with ideas for decor, layout, furniture and menus. It was endless, and she often had to stop and prioritize.

  “Sweetheart, can you set out the muffins?” she asked Millie as she set some loaves of bread on the shelf in front and to one side of her table.

  “I want to see what Rory has,” she grumbled. “She told me she would have some new jewelry when she came this week.”

  “I want to see too,” Margaret chimed in, abandoning her job.

  “Later. The market will be open in ten minutes and I want to be ready.”

  “Hey, girls!” Sonya called out, dragging two rolling suitcases past Shauntelle’s table. Sonya DeBree was short and heavyset, her dyed black hair worn in a perpetual braid down her back. The young woman stopped and whistled loudly. “Wow, those cakes turned out fantastic. I’d ask you to save one for me, but I think I’ve got enough cake stored up in me to last me until I die.” She massaged her protruding belly, laughing as she did so. “Once you start that restaurant I’m going to be in such trouble.”

  “I hope so,” Shauntelle said with a wry look.

  Sonya must have caught the hint of concern in her voice. “It will be just fine. Here’s hoping those construction people can get the arena done in time though. Heard things were slowing down.” Then, before Shauntelle could ask her what exactly she meant by those unsettling comments, she swished her long skirts and headed off to her table to set up her spices, homemade jam and condiments on her table.

  Shauntelle felt a tremor of unease at her comment, but then shrugged it off as Farmer’s Market gossip. The usual chitchat of people who had time on their hands and a listening ear.

  She turned her attention to getting the last of her baking set out. Ten minutes later everything was ready, and people were already drifting into the parking lot where they were set up, wandering around the tables.

  A few people came directly to her table. These were her regulars who showed up every Saturday to pick up preorders that she couldn’t deliver.

  “Thanks so much, Mrs. Michaels,” Shauntelle said as she handed the elderly woman the tray of muffins and cookies she had just b
ought. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a hazelnut torte cake?”

  The tiny, bird-like woman just laughed, showing her crooked teeth as she hooked the bag over her walker. “Sugarplum, if I bought that I would eat it all myself and end up fatter than I already am.”

  Considering she couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds, even with her walker, Shauntelle thought that highly unlikely.

  “I might be tempted to buy one.”

  Shauntelle looked over at her newest customer, and there was Mrs. Cosgrove. Then her heart plunged when she saw Noah join her.

  His dark hair and equally dark eyebrows arching over hidden, deep-set brown eyes could have given him a menacing look, but she remembered that melancholy smile of his yesterday. In spite of how bitter she was over what happened to Josiah because of him, seeing Noah face-to-face made it difficult to know exactly what to do with her anger.

  “I thought my son should find out firsthand how good the baking that he delivered yesterday actually is,” Mrs. Cosgrove said.

  Shauntelle dragged her attention away from Noah, granting Mrs. Cosgrove a more genuine smile. Fay Cosgrove was a loving, caring woman who, when Shauntelle had come here, had gone out of her way to support and encourage her. It wasn’t hard to separate her feelings for Noah from this woman.

  “I’m glad you came. I hope you can find something.”

  “I’m sure I can.” Mrs. Cosgrove’s smile grew but then she seemed to wince and shook her head. “Sorry. Feeling a bit punk yet.”

  “Should we go home?” Noah asked.

  “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.” Mrs. Cosgrove waved off his concern. “I’m tempted to get one of those cakes, though Noah will have to step up and do his part to finish it.”

  “I don’t think that will be much of a hardship.” He turned to Shauntelle again. “Do you have any meat pies today? I know when we were delivering them, they looked and smelled pretty tasty.”

  “I have a few,” she said, disappointed at the flush his compliment gave her. It felt wrong.

  “My mommy just made these cakes.” Millie walked over to where Noah was standing, and to Shauntelle’s embarrassment, grabbed his hand, dragging him closer to the table and directly in front of Shauntelle. “She said they were an experiment, but I think they look awesome.”

  “More of a trial run,” Shauntelle hastened to explain, far too aware of his towering presence. “For the restaurant. Thought I could offer them as desserts.”

  “They look really nice, Millie,” he said, addressing her daughter instead of her. For some reason that bothered her.

  “I helped my mom bake them,” Millie said, folding her hands in front of her and rocking back and forth, obviously pleased with Noah’s attention.

  Yeah, he had that effect on women and girls of all ages, Shauntelle thought, remembering how she, too, had once admired him from afar.

  “You didn’t help that much,” Margaret put in, coming to join them, clearly not too happy with the compliment Millie had received. “I did more.”

  “No you did not,” Millie grumbled. “You were busy reading your book. I helped Mom mix the dough and set the timer—”

  “But I mixed the icing and helped her put the cakes together.”

  And why did they have to pick a fight right here and now in front of the Cosgroves? In spite of their bickering, people walking past them slowed and smiled at the girls.

  Every time she took the twins out, people seemed drawn to them. Though Shauntelle let them choose their own clothes and encouraged them to develop their own style, they always picked matching outfits and accessories.

  Today they wore green-and-yellow-striped sweaters and hot pink leggings. If only one of them wore this outfit, they would stand out.

  But the two of them, bickering and picking at each other, their ponytails bobbing, drew unwelcome attention this time.

  “I don’t think we need to talk about who did what,” Shauntelle said with a forced smile, coming around the table and laying a warning hand on each of their shoulders. “You both helped.”

  “And you both did an amazing job,” Noah said, crouching down to get to their level.

  Which put him below hers. She could see the top of his head, the thick wave of his hair. She caught herself, frustrated at her reaction to him. She was as bad as her daughters.

  “And you girls both did a great job yesterday too,” Noah said, piling compliment on compliment.

  Immediately the girls quit their squabbling, both looking rather smug at Noah’s praise.

  “So now you have to help me pick out a cake for my mother,” he continued.

  As Noah stood, his gaze drifted up and snagged hers. His smile slowly faded, and the serious and somber look that replaced it sent a shiver down her spine. What was he thinking when he looked at her?

  Pulling her gaze away, she fiddled with the arrangement of the cakes, straightened a package of cinnamon rolls. Anything to avoid looking at Noah again. When she saw him yesterday, her anger had simmered hard, but today, after she had spent the afternoon with him, she found it had dissipated.

  Until she saw her parents. Then it had returned full force.

  “What do you think, Noah? Should we buy one of those?” Fay was asking.

  “I think we should, but then we need to get going,” Noah said to his mother. “You’re still not feeling well.”

  The concern in his voice and the tender way he laid his hand on his mother’s shoulder created battling emotions inside Shauntelle.

  In spite of that, she couldn’t forget the texts her brother sent her.

  Texts complaining about how hard he had to work. What a slave driver Noah was. Money-hungry and pushy. Even given her brother’s tendency to exaggerate, Noah still came across in those texts as a hard-nosed businessman concerned only with the bottom line.

  Then her brother had died, and once again the bottom fell out of her world. She swallowed down an unwelcome knot of pain.

  “You’re probably right,” his mother said, then turned to Shauntelle. “I think we’ll take this chocolate one.”

  “Good choice,” Shauntelle said, reaching for a box to put the cake in.

  “And the meat pies,” Noah prompted.

  “Right. Sorry. I forgot about them.” She boxed up the cake, disappointed to see her hands trembling as she closed the flaps. She wanted to show him that she was capable and in charge, unaffected by his presence, but the pounding of her heart made that impossible.

  Seriously, she really had to get a handle on her emotions.

  She tied a ribbon around the box and handed it to him with a forced smile. “That will be fifteen dollars.”

  “And the meat pies?” he reminded her.

  She did a mental facepalm. “Of course.” She boxed up a couple of pies and handed them to him as well, giving him the final total.

  “That’s pretty cheap,” he said, taking them from her. “You might want to consider raising your prices.”

  “I’m still trying things out.”

  “For what?”

  “The restaurant I want to start up.”

  “Really? That’s ambitious. Where will it be?”

  “It’s going to be part of the arena. I’ll be running a snack bar as one part of the operation with a restaurant attached to it. The contractor said he might put in a courtyard where I could have outdoor seating. People like to look at trees and flowers when they’re eating, I guess, and I’m not going to argue with that. I think it will look nice.” She stopped her babbling. He was making her uneasy, and she was doing that talking-too-much thing that she did when she was agitated.

  He took the boxes from her, his own lips curving slightly. “Sounds like you have a good plan in place.”

  “I work in a bank. The only way I’d get the money was if I had everything figured out down to how many teaspoons
of baking powder I’ll need.”

  He chuckled at that, and the shift in his expression was a surprise to her. He looked more approachable. More like the old Noah she remembered from school.

  But right behind that came the memory of her brother.

  “Enjoy the cake,” she said, looking away.

  He didn’t leave, which made Shauntelle more uncomfortable.

  “I know I should have said it earlier but I didn’t get a chance.” He took a breath, and she steeled herself for what he was going to say. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  The apology sounded heartfelt and it should have made Shauntelle feel better, but if anything, it brought back her anger.

  Josiah was gone, and Noah was still alive. Her parents had lost a son and she a brother. A hole in their family that could never be filled.

  She didn’t know what to say, so all she did was nod to acknowledge his apology. Then, as if sensing her pain and anger, Noah took a step back, turning to his mother.

  “We should go, Mom. Time to get you home.”

  “Did you get the meat pies?” Mrs. Cosgrove asked, looking from Noah to Shauntelle. “I thought we were getting some meat pies.”

  “We did,” Noah muttered.

  But just before they could leave, someone was calling out his name and Owen Herne joined them by Shauntelle’s table.

  “Hey, Noah, good to see you again,” Owen said, clapping him on the shoulder. “How long you back for?”

  “Just for Cord’s wedding, then back to Vancouver.”

  “So a couple weeks?”

  “Probably less.” He looked like he was trying to edge away, but Owen stood in front of him, blocking his way.

  “Okay. I need to talk to Shauntelle and was hoping I could catch you too somewhere along the way.” Owen glanced over at Shauntelle, and the foreboding look on his face wasn’t encouraging. “Do you have time?” he asked Shauntelle.

  “You want to talk to me here?”

  He jerked his chin in the direction of the now-empty coffee table. “We could go over there.”

  “Give me a minute?” she asked, wiping suddenly damp hands down the side of her pants. She shot a look over to Millie and Margaret, wondering if they should be here. “Girls, why don’t you go check out Rory’s booth? See if she has any new jewelry.”