“We were discussing a meeting I attend twice a week. For vets. We get together, hash things out,” the sheriff said, pulling out a business card and pressing it into Mack’s hand. “I think it would be good for you, Mack, and good for Belinda. She wants to see you healthy and happy. I’m sure you want the same for her.”
Mack shoved the card into his pocket and didn’t comment.
If he planned to attend the meetings, he didn’t let on.
“Anything else, Sheriff?” he finally said, and Rainier shook his head.
“You’re free to go. Hopefully, we won’t have another incident like this one, though.”
Mack shouldered past River, offered a curt nod in Brenna’s direction, and headed back to the barn.
He looked defeated, and that bothered River. He didn’t know squat about the man, but he knew the guy deserved better than whatever he’d gotten.
“Mack,” he called. “I’m going to start scraping the trim on the windows. You want to grab the tools from the shed?”
Mack didn’t slow his stride, but he did offer a thumbs-up.
Progress compared to what he usually gave River.
“I guess we’ll see if he shows up at the meeting,” Sheriff Rainier said, his gaze following Mack’s progress. “For Belinda’s sake, I hope he does. She’s had her hands full around here the past couple of years. I’d like to see her live the next part of her life in peace.”
“Had her hands full how?” Obviously, what River was seeing—the house falling to ruin, the strangers living in a place that had once been filled with family and friends—was just the tip of the iceberg.
“People in and out all the time. A few of them not the kind of people I’d want living with my mother. Fortunately, Belinda always seems to win the lottery when it comes to the people she helps. Mack has been around for a while and he’s chased more than one bad seed off. It’s why I don’t want to be too hard on him. When you leave, Belinda is going to need someone who has her back.”
“Who says I’m leaving?”
“You’re not?”
“Until things are settled around here, no.” River sounded defensive. He felt defensive. He loved Belinda more than he’d ever been able to love his biological mother. That was the truth. The other truth was . . . it had been easy to pretend Belinda was doing just fine because she’d wanted him to believe it.
And because he’d wanted to be convinced.
He’d had his life, his business, his thriving career, and he’d been so focused on that, he’d happily swallowed every half-truth she’d fed him.
“Belinda says you own a couple of restaurants in Oregon,” the sheriff commented.
“That’s right.”
“She’s pretty proud of that. She says you were the hardest headed of all of her kids, but seeing you thrive has been the most rewarding thing she’s ever experienced. The way she says it, the sun rises and falls on you.” Nice to know, but River was certain there was a hell of a lot more the sheriff wanted to discuss. He was also sure it had nothing to do with what Belinda thought about him or his restaurants.
“Look, Sheriff—”
“Kane. People around here aren’t big on formalities.”
“Fine. Kane, you’ve got something you want to say. How about you just come out and say it.”
The sheriff nodded. “Fair enough. People around here are worried.”
“I’ll bite,” he said, forcing the word out through gritted teeth. “What are they worried about?”
“Angel is saying you’re planning to move Belinda to Oregon when you go back.”
“We’ve discussed it.” Briefly, just a few days after Belinda had finally been released from the hospital. He’d been outlining all her options for therapy and recovery. She’d listened silently for a long time before she’d told him that she wasn’t moving anywhere.
Obviously Angel had been eavesdropping and hadn’t listened to the entire conversation.
“You discussed it with Belinda?”
“Does anyone else’s opinion matter?”
“It doesn’t, and as long as she’s onboard with the plan, I guess I’ve got nothing to say about it.” Kane glanced at his watch, frowned. “I’ve got a meeting with the mayor. I’ll check in with Mack in a couple of days. See if he wants to attend that meeting with me. See you around, River. Brenna.” He disappeared around the side of the house, and River was left standing there with Brenna who looked about ready to blow a gasket.
“Are you really moving Belinda to Oregon?” she demanded.
“I said we discussed it. I didn’t say we were doing it.”
“In other words, you wanted her to move there, and she refused.”
“I want what is best for her. This,” He jabbed his finger at the nearly rotted porch stairs, then at the yellowed grass and dried out fields, the peeling house paint and sagging eaves “is not what’s best.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Just stood there, her hair lying soft against her nape, her cheeks sprinkled with freckles, her gaze tracking the path his finger had taken, lingering on one mess after another.
“I’m sorry, River,” she finally said.
“For what?”
“It sucks to see something you love falling to pieces.”
“It sucked the night I got here and realized how far things had gone. Now, it’s just a job I have to do to make sure Belinda can stay in the home she loves.”
“You’re a good guy. That’s going to shock a lot of people in town.”
“And you’re a bookworm disguised as a fashion model. That will probably shock them too.”
“How’d you guess? The hoard of books in the library when I was a kid?”
“And, the red wagon that you used to pull down Main Street. It was always filled with books, and you always looked like the most contented person in the world.”
She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “I can’t believe you remember that. I’d almost forgotten.”
“It’s hard to forget finally seeing what happiness was supposed to look like.”
“That was a long time ago,” she murmured, her cheeks tinged with pink, her eyes more purple than blue.
“Not so long ago,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, tugging her a few steps closer, because she was there, and he was, and he thought it might not be a bad thing to get a little closer.
“I see, you were back in the battle,” he murmured, touching the speck of chocolate on her temple.
“It wasn’t a battle. It was an all-out war.”
“Should I ask who won?” he said, rubbing the speck away.
“The fudge. But, I plan to win the next round. Which reminds me. I’ve got to get back to the shop.” She tugged away, darted to the back door and into the house. He followed, walking into the kitchen, the scent of furniture polish hitting him in the face. It smelled like someone had sprayed an entire can of the stuff.
“What the hell?” he muttered, stalking into the hallway.
Huckleberry was there, one of the kitchen chairs beside him, piled with pictures and frames. The kid had a dust rag in one hand and a spray bottle in the other, and for the first time since River had been back, the wood banister wasn’t coated with dust.
“What are you doing?” he asked, the question as redundant as the squirt of polish Huckleberry added to the rag.
The kid lifted a picture, swiped the rag around the frame, and hung it back on the wall. “Cleaning. No sense in Belinda coming home to a mess.”
“Good job,” Brenna said, sashaying past Huckleberry and out the front door.
She was keeping her distance.
No doubt about that, and that’s what River should be doing too. His life was full to overflowing, and he didn’t need or want to add anyone or anything to it.
He needed to bring Brenna back to the shop, get Belinda from Janelle’s, call his restaurant managers to make sure all their suppliers had come through. Fresh and local: that was his goal with every dish s
erved. He’d made his fortune and his reputation off that, but maybe it wasn’t as important as he’d once thought. Maybe there were other things he should be focusing on.
He left the house, the scent of furniture polish seeming to follow him out into the bright sunshine. He could remember the place the way it used to be. He could make it that way again if he wanted to. He had the money. He could make the time.
But . . . Benevolence?
Not the place he’d ever wanted to return to. Not a place he’d ever wanted to live.
He crossed the porch, trying to ignore the broken swing, the railings that still needed to be whitewashed, the empty flower baskets, but Brenna was waiting at his truck and he could see she was looking, taking in all the little details of a house that had been neglected for way too long.
Her phone rang as he approached and she pulled it out of her apron pocket, glanced at the number.
“Perfect,” she muttered, tossing the phone into her pocket again.
“Your mother?” He opened the truck door and she scrambled in, her cheeks red. Embarrassment or anger, he couldn’t tell which.
“My mother would be easy compared to him.”
“Your ex?”
“I wish it were my ex, I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. Actually, I’d like to give him a kick in the . . .” She pressed her lips together. “I’ve really got to stop.”
“What?”
“Thinking about Dan, because I promised myself that I’d clean up my language before Adeline’s baby is born, and that’s just not going to be possible if I keep dwelling on the jerk.”
“If he’s a jerk,” he said, climbing into the truck and starting the engine, “why are you dwelling on him?”
“He screwed up my life, that’s why.”
“What did he do? Cheat on you?”
“That question is a little personal, don’t you think?”
“Me asking doesn’t mean you have to answer.”
She didn’t say another word as he backed out of the driveway and headed back into town. The way he saw it, no answer was the answer.
The guy had cheated. Brenna had dumped him. Life had gone on, but she hadn’t.
It seemed to River that she would have. Unless something else had happened. Something to do with the call she hadn’t taken.
“Can you drop me off at the shop before you pick Belinda up?” she asked quietly. “I don’t want to leave Byron by himself for too long.”
“Sure.” He didn’t point out that Byron seemed perfectly capable of running the shop. He thought she probably already knew it. He also didn’t point out the fact that her phone was ringing again.
He thought she already knew that, too.
He pulled up in front of Chocolate Haven and she jumped out of the truck, offering him a quick thank you before she darted inside.
Whatever Brenna’s problems, she was home.
That had to feel good.
Or maybe not.
Maybe, like for River, Benevolence had been the one place she’d never planned on returning to.
An odd thought, considering the fact that she was one of the Lamont girls. If there had ever been Benevolence royalty, they’d been it. The little world they’d grown up in had been theirs for the taking, and he’d had moments of pure jealousy about that. He’d had to work his butt off every moment of every day to prove his worth. All Brenna and her sisters had to do was smile.
That had been a long time ago.
People changed.
He sure as hell must have, because the town he’d always looked down on, the place he’d hated when he was a kid, looked a lot better through adult eyes: the quaint shops that lined Main Street, the mature trees that shaded the sidewalk.
Autumn was just around the corner. There were hints of it in the golden leaves of a willow, the deep yellow of distant hayfields. It made him think of the parties Belinda used to host: harvest festivals for the church kids and Halloween parties for the schools. She and Dillard would open up the house and let dozens of kids run in and out. There’d always been games and food, sometimes a live band, and always the ponies Dillard had loved so much.
When had he gotten rid of those?
Sometime after River had left.
Dillard and Belinda had never mentioned it. They’d never asked for help or begged him to come home. They’d seemed content to fly out to visit every couple of months, to play tourist in Oregon and ooh and aah over the big city.
He’d always known they were doing it for him—staying in a place they didn’t really like for the sake of someone they loved.
He couldn’t do any less for them.
He wouldn’t.
He’d stay in Benevolence as long as he needed to.
And, maybe, while he was there, he’d learn to love it the way Dillard and Belinda had.
Chapter Six
Four days into her job at Chocolate Haven and Brenna realized something: she hated fudge.
Hated it with a passion that rivaled her hatred of Dan the dope. Probably hated it more than Dan because she couldn’t really say she hated the guy. Angry? Yes. Disgusted? Of course. But hate? That took a lot of emotion, and she’d realized long before Dan had skipped town that she didn’t have a whole lot of that left for him.
Wasn’t love supposed to be about passion? About needing to be with someone almost as much as you needed to breathe?
Or was that all just a romantic notion, written in books and songs, but never the reality of what real love was meant to be?
She had no idea because all she’d really ever felt for Dan was attraction and affection. He’d swept her off her feet. She could admit that, but he’d never really had her heart.
She dumped another batch of rock-hard fudge into the trash can, scraping bits of it off the edges of the pan. She needed to wash it, but she’d run out of energy hours ago. All she really wanted to do was go up to the apartment, curl up with a hot cup of tea, and read the book she’d borrowed on the sly from the library.
Candy Making for Dummies.
Because she couldn’t keep pretending to be good at this, and Byron really, truly believed she had the knack, the magic touch, the thing that made a simple piece of chocolate into something decadent.
Only she didn’t.
She tossed the pan into the sink, water splashing up over the edge and onto the floor.
“Darn it,” she muttered, and Byron peeked out of his office.
“Everything okay, doll?” he asked, and she smiled that big fake smile she’d been practicing for the past few days.
Four days of torturous hell, but she’d never let him know it.
“Sure. Just cleaning up.”
“I’ve finished the books, so I’ll give you a hand.”
“What good is it doing for me to be here if you do all the work?”
“I’m not doing all the work.”
“Granddad, you’ve been here every hour of every day I’ve been here.”
“Helping you get settled into the job so when I leave on Monday—”
“Leave?” She went cold at the thought. With Chase in college every day, she’d be left alone to make the fudge, the bonbons, the candy hearts, and pretty chocolate roses.
“I’ve got that Alaskan fishing trip planned. I know I told you about it.” He took a cigar from his pocket and clamped it between his teeth.
He was lying. She could tell by the gleam in his eyes.
“No. You did not say one word about a fishing trip. Ever. Not before I got here and not after.”
“Really?” He tried to look confused, but he wasn’t pulling it off.
“You lied to me, Granddad,” she accused. “You didn’t need my help while Addie was out, you needed me to run the shop while you went fishing!”
“Could be I was thinking about that when I asked you to come.” He grinned. “But you can’t say it hasn’t been working out nicely for you to be here.”
“Do you see the mess I’ve made in your kitchen?” S
he swung around in a circle, pointing at dirty pans and overflowing bowls. She wanted to cry. She really did, and she wasn’t even sure why. “This is not working out.”
“What you need,” Byron said calmly, “is a little time to yourself, a little space with me not hanging over your shoulder telling you what to do.”
“More space to make a bigger mess? Is that what you’re saying? That’s not going to solve the problem.”
“More space to let the magic happen.” He winked, and she was tempted to yank the cigar out from between his teeth and stomp it into dust.
“There is no magic here. There is just a bucketload of wasted ingredients.”
“How can there be magic when you’ve got an old man getting in the way of you making it? Once I’m on my trip, and you’re on your own—”
“How long are we talking about?” she asked through gritted teeth. She would not let Byron know how much she was panicking.
“Two weeks,” he said cheerfully.
“Your business will be a bust by then, Granddad. I’ll have run Chocolate Haven out of the chocolate world. You’ll come back from your fishing trip—”
“It’s not like you to be melodramatic, Brenna.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “You’ve traveled all over the world. On your own. You’ve lived on your own in New York City, for God’s sake. What’s so scary about being alone in this shop for two weeks?”
“I—”
“If you’re afraid of failing, stop. You can’t fail at a family business. If you’re worried about the fudge.” He poked his finger toward the batch she’d just tossed. “It’ll come to you.”
“You’re putting a whole lot of faith in that, Granddad.”
“Why shouldn’t I? You’re a Lamont. Lamonts know fudge. The candy making business—”
“Runs through their blood.” She sighed.
“Well, it does,” he said with a quiet huff. “Now, how about we get to cleaning? I’ve got a hot date tonight, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Hot date?” The comment was almost enough to distract her from the fact that she’d be running the shop on her own for two weeks. “With who?”
“Might be it’s someone you know. Might be it isn’t.”
Sweet Surprises Page 9
