Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Molly Cannon

  He seemed a bit dazed. “Already? How ’bout that?”

  “Why are you so surprised? You were the one who practically guaranteed success this afternoon.”

  “Well, yeah, I figured we’d have a healthy turn out, but I didn’t think we would get that kind of response so quickly.”

  “Well, we did. And even though I didn’t want to listen to you, you were right. I’ll admit I can be a bit stubborn when it comes to my cooking.”

  A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. “Just about your cooking? Is that all?”

  “Well, mainly, mostly…. Why? What else do you think I’m stubborn about?” she demanded.

  He didn’t answer her. Instead he said, “Hold on, Etta. I’m going to spin you.”

  She grabbed a hold of his shirt. “Oh, don’t spin me. I’m a klutz, totally lacking in the grace department.”

  He smiled and explained, “The way this dancing thing works is I lead and you follow. So hold on while I spin you around.”

  She balked, dragging her feet. “Isn’t it enough that I have to go backwards all the time?”

  “Hush now. I lead. You follow.” Then without waiting he picked her up and spun around, her feet dangling in the air.

  She let out a squeal that had other dancers looking their way.

  He set her back on solid ground and continued moving around the floor. “See what I mean?”

  “About what? I’m afraid you’ve totally lost me.” She was flushed and her heart was thumping in her chest. The way his green eyes studied her made her feel like he could see all the way through her.

  His mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile. “You are a stubborn woman, Etta Green. About everything. Even a dance with you involves negotiation.”

  “That wasn’t a negotiation.” She set her chin at a willful angle. “That was your basic caveman act.”

  “Don’t worry, sugar. I don’t plan to drag you off to my cave unless you ask nicely.” He winked.

  And she couldn’t help it. She smiled a full-fledged, full-hearted smile. “I’ll try to contain myself.” The idea of being dragged off to his cave had more appeal than she’d ever expected.

  They took a few steps more, while neither of them said a word. She settled her cheek against the soft cotton of his plaid cowboy shirt, aware of the brawny muscles of his chest, while his strong arm wrapped around her shoulder anchoring her there. The music swirled around her and before she thought better of it she raised her gaze to his and said, “Let’s do it again.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Do what again?”

  “You know. That spinney-around thing. Let’s do it again.”

  “Are you trying to lead now?” His voice was gruff, but his eyes twinkled.

  She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, “I’m asking nicely.”

  Before the words were out of her mouth he was spinning them again. This time she threw her head back and laughed. Surrendering control for those few seconds, letting him carry her. And when he put her down she landed close to his chest and stayed there.

  “Thank you, Donny Joe.” She wasn’t going to be stubborn about giving him his due. Not tonight.

  “For what? The dance? It’s my pleasure.” He guided them around a slower couple, his hand strong and sure on her back, holding her in place.

  She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. “Thank you for the dance, and thank you for saving the Valentine’s dinner. I know it won’t solve all of our problems, but now maybe we have a decent chance to make a go of things.”

  He stared into her eyes and said sincerely, “We sure do, sunshine.”

  The next song started playing and by unspoken agreement they stayed on the floor together. This song was slow, and the woman singer’s voice was filled with heartache and longing. Etta closed her eyes and let the words and music wash over her from head to toe. Donny Joe’s arms pulled her close to his body. One of his strong hands settled firmly on her back, just above the curve of her hip, and his warm breath stirred her hair. Tucked against his body, she felt shivers of deep, dark awareness she’d tried to ignore for weeks now. But she couldn’t deny this attraction, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore.

  The song ended and this time he put a hand on her elbow, guiding her from the floor. Irene what’s-her-name stepped into their path. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Irene Cornwell.”

  Etta moved a step away from Donny Joe and held out her hand. “I’m Etta Green. It’s nice to meet you, Irene.”

  They shook hands briefly. “I know who you are. You’re turning Miz Hazel’s place into a B&B, and I’m so excited about the Valentine’s dinner. I can’t wait.”

  “Oh, so you’ll be coming?”

  “Sure. I wouldn’t miss it. Donny Joe and I have a standing date on Valentine’s every year.” Irene linked her arm through Donny Joe’s, smiling up at him intimately. Then she turned back to Etta. “From what I’ve heard about your cooking, this promises to be one of the best ones we’ve shared yet.”

  “Thanks.” Etta felt the smile on her face slipping. Of course Donny Joe had a date. She couldn’t possibly be surprised by that, but somehow in her head when she’d thought about the big opening day dinner, he’d been right there by her side, greeting guests, helping seat the diners. But that was a crazy expectation. It wasn’t his job to help. Just because he had money invested in the place didn’t mean he’d be involved in the day-to-day operation. She should just be happy he planned to show up at all. Especially now. He needed to be there so folks could heap praise on him for his Magnificent Miracle Ham. The silly ham was taking on a life of stupendous, tremendous proportions with every passing minute.

  “Well, I’m going to take off now,” Etta announced briskly. “But thanks again, Donny Joe, and it was nice to meet you, Irene.”

  She turned to walk away and almost made it to the front door when Donny Joe caught up to her. “Do you really need to go? It’s early, and I thought you might want to take me on again. Try to beat me in a few games of darts. If you win this time, you’d have witnesses.” His smile was smug as if he didn’t think that was likely to happen.

  “Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check, Donny Joe.” Etta looked over his shoulder. “You should go on back to Irene. She looks like she’s ready for another dance.” Before he could answer she bolted for the door. Outside she scrambled to get inside the VW bus, and once she did she sat there staring out the windshield at the tall pole light that lit up the parking lot. She felt like one of the moths fluttering around it, dashing themselves against the bulb despite the fact that they might get burned. Her hands gripped the steering wheel like it could help her get a handle on her feelings. Donny Joe drove her nuts, and he made her laugh, and he turned her into a mushy-headed female just by being in the same vicinity. Right now she was mushy-headed enough to consider running back inside, pulling Donny Joe out onto the dance floor, and dashing her body against his until they both burned up from the heat of it. But she wouldn’t. She shouldn’t. And before she could change her mind, she started the engine and steered her way across Lu Lu’s pothole-filled parking lot, heading home.

  The B&B was coming together. Etta looked around, taking in the new bar they’d installed in the front parlor to serve as the check-in point for guests. All the guest rooms upstairs were complete, furnished to resemble their designated dessert and ready to go. And they had three of the rooms booked for the opening weekend. The opening that was only a week away.

  She hadn’t seen Donny Joe since the night at Lu Lu’s. She’d expected him to gloat, but instead he’d seemed honestly surprised by the overwhelming response they’d gotten for the Valentine’s dinner. He told her to do what she wanted for side dishes, and she’d chosen to keep it simple. She’d add her own special dressing to a green salad, potato salad, baked beans, homemade rolls, and a cranberry relish. Picnic food, but done her way. In honor of the original ham in the hole. And the simple palate of the Everson folks.

  But she was
keeping the Hazelnut soup in honor of Grammy, and she was sticking with chocolate for dessert, too. A fancy chocolate mousse cake that took time and patience to prepare, chocolate meringue pies using Grammy’s recipe, and a large tray of strawberries, some dipped in chocolate, and some dipped in brown sugar and sour cream. Some Valentine traditions couldn’t be ignored.

  She picked up a basket of unfolded red napkins and napkin rings they were using for dinner and carried them over to a table. Sitting down, she smoothed out the cloth and rolled each into a tube before slipping it into a cute little wire heart-shaped ring. They would add an extra special touch to each of the tables. Yes, everything was moving along smoothly.

  Unless she thought about Chicago and Finale’s. She stopped in the middle of folding a napkin, remembering Mr. Starling’s phone call. He had called to say they were faced with a new development, and it wasn’t looking good. It seemed Diego had sold his part of the restaurant to his new wife, so she was now the majority owner and didn’t have to honor his previous agreements. And Diego was being a complete coward about the whole thing—standing by while Etta was being pushed off a cliff. Etta looked down at the napkin she’d managed to mangle, threw it onto the table and covered her face with her hands.

  The idea that they could take her restaurant was devastating. She felt her throat closing up as she thought about all she was losing. That place and those people were her life. She still couldn’t believe it was true. Over the last few days she’d barely managed to keep it together. She’d be in the middle of mopping the kitchen floor or making a bed and that bitter reality would hit her like a wave, mentally knocking her off her feet. She was losing Finale’s. If she let herself dwell on it she’d simply curl up in a ball and cry. And she didn’t have that luxury. Not now. The Inn and Daphne took up all her time these days, and that was probably a good thing. There would be plenty of time to figure out what in the world she was going to do with the rest of her life later. For now she had a basket full of napkins to fold.

  A knock on the front door interrupted her task. She opened the door to an older man standing on the porch surrounded by three large suitcases. An early guest to the Inn, maybe?

  “Hello. Can I help you? I’m afraid we aren’t open until next week.”

  “How do you do? I’m Noah Nelson. I’m your new gardener.”

  “My gardener?” She’d been bemoaning the fact that they needed a gardener, but she certainly didn’t expect to conjure one out of thin air. Maybe she should bemoan a whole list of things they needed if that was all it took to make them appear. Like a cook.

  The older man shuffled his feet, looking a bit unsure. “You’re Hazel’s granddaughter, right?”

  “Oh, yes, pardon me. I should have introduced myself. Yes, I’m Etta Green.”

  “Well, Hazel said I could have room and board in exchange for keeping up the grounds.” He glanced behind him at the front lawn. Even though it was wintertime the yard could have done with some trimming and shaping. “After she died, I wasn’t sure if this place would still open up, but then I saw the flyers around town for the Valentine’s Day dinner.”

  It was an unusually cold day, overcast and windy, so she waved him inside. His suitcases could stay on the porch until this was sorted out. She knew they needed someone to take care of the yard, but she hadn’t thought about live-in help. The number of people living in the house would soon outnumber the guests at this rate.

  “She said I could have the small room over the garage if my son tried to put me in assisted living again.”

  Etta smiled and nodded and thought about how old the man looked. If he needed to be in assisted living how much yard work could he possibly do? On the other hand he didn’t look particularly frail. And if Grammy Hazel promised him, she hated to say no.

  “Is Beulah here?” he asked, craning his neck to look past her into the back of the house.

  “She just ran to the store. She should be back any time now.”

  “She’ll vouch for me, in case you’re worried.”

  “I’m sure she will. Would you like some coffee while we wait?”

  He seemed to take the question as permission to drag all of his belongings inside the house. He lugged the suitcases inside and closed the door against the chill. “Coffee sounds good. Do you have any kind of muffin to go with it?”

  He followed her into the kitchen, and she wondered when he’d eaten last. “Do you live alone right now, Noah?”

  “I live in a duplex my son owns. He wants to rent it out to help pay property taxes. Putting me away in a home will cost him more than that, but he says I shouldn’t live alone.”

  While he talked Etta poured a cup of coffee, and put food on a plate in front of him. Both the fruit and a muffin disappeared in a flash. “Would you like some eggs? I was about to have a late breakfast.”

  He thanked her in a dignified way. “I’ll be happy to start weeding that front flowerbed today. And I can plant a few flowering plants in pots on the front porch that will give the place some color.”

  Etta shuddered at the thought of him working out in such nasty weather. “The flowerbed can wait.” She grabbed a skillet from the overhead rack and got eggs and butter from the refrigerator and scrambled half a dozen eggs. “I like the idea of flowers in pots on the porch, though. The back porch could use some, too. In fact, I’d love to hear all of your suggestions.” She put a plate of eggs on the bar and with a sheepish smile he dug in.

  “These are great, Miss Green.”

  “Please call me Etta.”

  The back door flew open, and Beulah came bustling in carrying several shopping bags. She was wearing bright green sweat pants and a hot pink leopard print hooded sweatshirt pulled up over her head. She pushed the hood down as she came in, shaking out her bouncy curled-up hairdo. “My goodness, that wind nearly carried me away,” she declared with a laugh. Then she stopped when she saw Noah sitting at the kitchen bar eating. “Noah? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

  “Hello, Beulah. I’m here to take the gardening job if the offer is still open. Tom wants to put me in that home over in Derbyville.”

  “Oh dear. I didn’t realize he was serious.” Beulah dropped her shopping bags on the table and looked at Etta. “Hazel did say Noah could have a room here if he needed it.” She seemed flustered, patting her curls and fussing with her purse. She turned to Noah. “But what will Tom say? He’s not going to like this, will he?”

  “Humph. He doesn’t get to say anything, not if I’m out from under his roof. Miss Green, I mean Etta, you don’t know me from Adam, and so I can understand why you might be reluctant to go along with this. But I promise I’d work hard. Of course, I’d be another mouth to feed.” He shoveled another fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth and washed it down with coffee.

  Etta waved away his worry. Feeding people was what she did. She wondered a little at Beulah’s reaction, though. If she didn’t know better she’d say her cousin was nervous. Maybe she should discuss this with her privately before agreeing to anything.

  But then Beulah popped up and said firmly, “We aren’t about to renege on Hazel’s offer, are we Etta?”

  Etta shook her head and agreed. “We definitely need help with the grounds. Finish eating, Mr. Nelson, and we’ll show you your room. I haven’t been up there, so I can’t vouch for how clean it is.”

  He popped the last bite of muffin into his mouth and said. “I’m sure it’s fine, and please call me Noah. Thank you kindly. Just let me grab my suitcases.”

  Twenty minutes later he was all settled in the small apartment over the garage. Her grandfather had used it as an extra study. Now it was furnished with a twin bed, a dresser, a small desk, and a bunch of old books. It was a little dusty, but Noah seemed pleased. It also had a small bathroom, so he’d have some privacy from the rest of the family. Despite the weather he said he was anxious to go out and look over the grounds and get an idea of what needed to be tackled right away.

  Etta and
Beulah walked back into the house, and Etta started gathering the breakfast dishes. Beulah stood watching Noah out the window.

  “Are you okay, Beulah?”

  “I’m fine. I just can’t believe he’s really here.” Her voice was soft, and she sounded decades younger than her eighty-odd years.

  “But you’re okay with it?”

  “I expect Tom will make a fuss.”

  “His son?”

  “Yes. Tom loves his father, but he doesn’t understand that he needs to be surrounded by grass, and flowers, and things that bloom. You’ve never seen such a green thumb. Hazel knew what she was doing when she offered him the job. By springtime the Inn will be a showplace.”

  Etta tried to think of a delicate way to ask her next question. “And he’s not too old to handle the work?”

  Beulah turned from the window and said in a choked voice, “I honestly think if he doesn’t work he’ll die.”

  “Well then, we’ll just have to make sure he gets help with anything too strenuous.” Etta put a comforting hand on Beulah’s arm.

  Beulah shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. “Forgive me, Etta. I’m just a silly old woman. But I’ve loved him from the first day I laid eyes on him in high school. I loved him when he married Karen Morris and raised a family with her. And I loved him when he buried her ten years ago. When you look at Noah, all you see is an old man. When I look at Noah, I see the only man I’ve ever loved.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was midmorning. The weather was mild, but the weatherman had mentioned a chance of colder temperatures for the rest of the week. Donny Joe checked out the sky, and the low hanging, gray clouds overhead, before stepping up onto the Inn’s back porch. Shifting the shovel he was carrying to his other hand, he knocked on the back door. He had his own key, but he didn’t feel right barging in unannounced. He hadn’t thought too much about his motivation for being here, but then Etta appeared at the back door, and he knew exactly why he was there.

  She opened the screen door, and he stood there for a minute taking inventory. Her short, wavy hair was brushed away from her face, making her big brown eyes look larger than usual. She wore red lipstick and his gaze lingered a minute too long on her mouth. But then his eyes traveled down to her body. Instead of her normal outfit of scruffy blue jeans and a T-shirt, she was wearing a short navy skirt and a white sweater with some kind of decorative collar. An apron was tied around her waist. She wore aprons a lot. Always a different one, it seemed. This one was yellow with white daisies. He never meant for it to happen, in fact he’d fought against it, but he’d started having fantasies of her wearing nothing but one of those dad-gummed aprons. He must have been staring with his mouth open for too long because she waved a hand in front of his face.