by Colleen Coble, Kristin Billerbeck, Denise Hunter, Diann Hunt
“You’re not with code enforcement. Aren’t you a glorified accountant?” She looked down at her feet after she said it. “I’m sorry.” She met his gaze again. “I didn’t mean that.”
He laughed only because it sounded like she did mean it—and she meant it very intently. “Maybe I am a glorified accountant, but I’m also in charge of zoning laws for the city. This street is zoned commercial, but I’m nearly positive you’re not zoned for commercial cooking. That means you’re most likely not insured for damages if there’s a fire. That means the city itself gets sued, and trust me, this is why I have a job.” He walked down the alley and entered the building through the side door, propped open by an old logging stump.
“Make yourself at home.”
The wafting scent of onions and nutmeg met him, with a hint of sawdust and must. The first thing he noticed in the crumbling building was all the exposed wiring along the wall. It took every ounce of self-control not to rip out the new city manual he was writing and flag her for the myriad electrical issues. “Zoe.” He pulled his notebook from his interior suit jacket. “You can’t cook in here until you get this exposed wiring covered. You could blow up a city block with one spark.” He turned off the burner and the flame died.
She marched beside him and turned it back on. “Do you mind? If that doesn’t heat, there will be no dinner for eight seniors, and I’ll roll them all to your front door and tell them why they’re hungry. I understand I have to fix it, but surely it can wait a week.”
“Seniors?” He stared again at the beautiful brunette who barely looked old enough to be out of high school, much less running her own business and cooking for old people. “You mean you’re cooking for others?”
“Shut-ins.” Her lower lip protruded, and the action caught his attention in a way that made him feel ashamed he hadn’t taken her seriously. “Didn’t the town you came from have older people who can’t get around to the grocery store and such?”
“I was in Hilo, Hawaii. The seniors are pretty robust there, and family does the job.”
“I think if you did more careful research, you’d find that even in the paradise of Hawaii there are some older folks on their own. Not everyone has a family, Mr. Singer.”
At the sound of his formal name, he felt as if she’d kicked him in the gut.
“During the week I make a small meal and deliver it in the afternoons. Sometimes it’s their only meal. It’s certainly their only company.”
“Miss Thomas, I think that’s wonderful, but you can’t put yourself and others in danger to do it.” He turned the burner off again. “You’ll have to find another place. You can’t cook in here. Not until this wiring is up to code.”
“What do you mean, I can’t cook in here? It’s my office. I pay the rent here.”
“Who rented it to you? It’s illegal to rent a place that isn’t up to code. You’d need a permit for commercial cooking, and you’d certainly need to make sure all wiring is up to code. What’s your landlord’s name? There is no way the fire department is going to let you have any kind of event in this office.” He drew a pen from his pocket. “Do you have your landlord’s number? I can take care of this.”
“I think you should leave now.”
“I’m trying to help you, Zoe. No one should be renting out retail or business space that isn’t safe. Smitten is getting too many visitors to do things the way they’ve always been done. With tourists comes responsibility, and liability insurance for the city. That’s why the town board hired me—so that Smitten can run more efficiently.”
She didn’t say anything but walked to the ancient pink refrigerator in the corner of the wooden room and opened it. She drew out a silver ice tray and pulled the lever until the encased ice cracked into cubes. She withdrew a few, wrapped them in a terry-cloth kitchen towel, and dabbed the side of his head. Without thinking, he braced her hand, moved by her gentle touch.
“What are you cooking?”
“It’s a butternut squash soup. A lot of times what my sister Clare grows in her garden is what I use for ingredients that day. She had a lot of squash today. Probably enough for the whole town.” She didn’t make an effort to remove her hand, and instead moved it so that the cold ice reached the entire scrape.
“Why can’t you cook at home?”
“I live out by the lake. My car’s been acting up, so I’ve been taking the bus into town. It’s easier to cook here and run it to the seniors. I keep a bike here.” She nodded toward a lime-green beach cruiser with a giant basket leaned against the corner. “It travels well over the gravel roads.”
“You live out by the lake? Near the cabins?”
“In one of them, actually.” She dropped her hand, and he suddenly felt as though he were missing a limb.
“I live in the cabins too. Just temporarily until I find something in town.”
“Do you mean if you stay?”
“Pardon?”
She stepped back and placed the ice pack on a wooden chopping block near the stove. “City people don’t usually stay very long in Smitten. The way we do things drives them batty and they’re off.” She hunched one shoulder. “Like you’ll be when something bigger opens up.”
His eyes widened at her forthright assessment of him. “I wanted to come to Smitten.”
She gave a placating smile as if she didn’t believe a word he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do before Friday.”
“What’s Friday?” he asked.
“My first event. It’s an icebreaker, and we’re going to have some food, give people a chance to get to know one another. Zak’s going to bring barbecue. Have you met Zak yet? He’s the owner of the Smitten Grill.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure. Zoe, you can’t have people gather in this building until that wiring is inspected and covered.”
“I can. Did you see that notice out front? The fire department approved me for an occupancy of sixty-seven people, and we won’t have nearly that many on our first night.”
He said nothing. He couldn’t override the fire department. Not until he had the backing of the entire town board and proof that Smitten truly did want to streamline its management and run itself like a genuine town. He felt his jaw twitch at being so powerless. It always felt this way when he started in a new city as it underwent big changes. It just never bothered him so much before. Feeling powerless at first was part of the job. Feeling powerless in front of Zoe made him feel an inch tall.
He drew out his code book. “You’re in violation of the current laws. I want to support you in this new venture, but I’m going to have to recommend that the fire department come back out and reinspect the premises. You can’t open for business until that electrical is under current code.” He wrote the approval number in his book, then closed and pocketed it.
Zoe’s mouth gaped open as she watched him. He felt her gaze upon him, and heat rose from his collar. She pointed to the wall, and he followed her slender finger.
“There’s the inspection. All signed and accounted for.” She shrugged, as if everything was taken care of and there was nothing more to say. Her innocence made him want to burn his code book, but he couldn’t do that in good conscience, no matter what she thought of him. But the cost felt high as her wide eyes blinked back at him.
He backed away from her toward the open door. He’d only just started in Smitten, and he had to prove himself worthy, but the cost felt astronomical as Zoe kicked the stump from the threshold and let the door slam between them. He heard the lock click and had no doubt that she’d fired up the stove again and ignored everything he said to her. He looked down the long corridor toward the street and saw Zoe’s sister Clare staring back at him. He forced himself to walk toward the street and forget the way Zoe made him feel. For now, for his own sanity . . . that was all he could do.
CHAPTER THREE
Zoe’s heart pounded as she stepped up to Mr. Warner’s front door with his nightly meal. She felt like a criminal, having co
oked dinner in her new commercial building, and found herself looking over her shoulder all day. It shouldn’t have made any difference to her—after all, she had the fire department’s approval—but a niggling feeling pressed on her. For some unknown reason, she wanted to impress William Singer and for him to take her seriously as a businesswoman.
As she looked back at the bike on its kickstand, she half expected to see William in his car taking notes on her subversive activities. She’d probably just watched too much CSI. She knew she didn’t have time to prepare for the event, get back to the lake, and have dinner ready on time. Older people liked their schedules, and when she was late she often got an earful. Not only that, but she didn’t want to admit to her family that they’d been right about her renting the tired old storefront.
With fall well under way, the day’s dwindling light forced her to keep an earlier schedule. She balanced her basket with the last plate inside and rapped on the peeling red front door.
She opened the door a smidgen and peeked inside. “Arnold, it’s Zoe. Can I come in?”
“In the kitchen,” a gravelly voice called.
She made her way through the small bungalow and found Arnold sitting at his small Formica table with the lower half of his arm slung over its edge. “Where have you been?” He looked at the black numbers on the large wall clock as the minute hand made a loud click.
“I’m sorry. You were last on my route today. I’m having dinner at my mother’s, and you’re closest to her house.”
“Zoe, are you still taking the bus and riding that crazy bike everywhere? Winter is coming, darling. You need to be more practical. I told you to take my Buick. No one uses that thing, and it’s just sitting there in the garage. Take it and use it—at least until your car is working again.”
“If I don’t have a better system by the end of the week, I will.”
“Promise?” Arnold asked.
“Pinky swear,” she said, though he probably had no idea what that meant. “Why are you in the kitchen already today? Are you hungry?” She removed the canvas bag from her shoulder and set the basket on the table. She brought out a small covered bowl and a paper plate of cheese and crackers. “Butternut squash soup, fresh from my sister’s garden.”
“You Thomas girls are a credit to your mother. It smells delicious.” He waited patiently for her to grab some silverware, and she gathered up the well-washed plates that rested on the countertop from the day’s earlier meal.
“Your TV working okay? It’s not like you to be in the kitchen so early,” she mentioned again.
Arnold shrugged. “The games were over for the day, and the news–well, I just don’t recognize the world any longer. I knew you’d be here soon, so I thought I’d just wait. Here you are late today. What happened?”
“I got held up. It’s the first day I cooked at the new office and I have to get used to things, that’s all.” She set the silverware on the table.
Arnold lifted the bowl closer to his nose and took a whiff. “Smells great.”
“It tastes that way too. Has a little cream in it, so it should stick with you tonight. Very hardy for the colder nights.”
“I’m glad you’ve noticed it’s getting colder. That beach bike of yours is out of season.”
She smiled at his fatherly tone. “Turns out Smitten has a new city manager, and he came by Cupid’s Arrow today. He said I shouldn’t cook there because the wiring isn’t up to code, and if I started a fire the city would be held liable.”
“That’s secondary. If the wiring isn’t up to code, you could be putting yourself in danger, and none of us could forgive ourselves if something happened to you.”
She rubbed Arnold’s shoulder. “I’ll be careful.”
He scooped a spoonful of soup into his mouth. “Mmm. He’s probably right, you know. This country is nothing but lawyers anymore. You can’t trim a hedge in your own backyard without being sued these days, but wiring is nothing to mess with.”
Zoe stared into Arnold’s pale blue eyes and realized the frantic energy she’d brought with her. She took in a deep breath, sat beside him, and cupped his hand. “I’ll figure it out. How’s your day going?”
“Same as always. I finished a puzzle. Did you see it when you came in?”
“I didn’t. I’ll check it out. Is that the one you’ve been working on? The old truck?”
“Hey, I prefer the term classic, thank you. I owned that very model at one time. Now, sit down and eat something. There’s plenty here for both of us. Get yourself a bowl.”
She squeezed his hand. “Not tonight. My mom is having a family dinner, and I’m running late, as usual.” She stood up and went to the refrigerator. “What do you want to drink?”
“If it’s not too much trouble, can you make me some coffee? There’s decaf in that green canister there.”
She glanced at her watch but figured her mother would expect her to be late. It was already past the time where she’d get by without a lecture. “Sure.”
Everything in Arnold’s kitchen was meticulously kept, and she pulled the Folger’s canister from the wall and scooped some into the stained Mr. Coffee machine.
“You usually eat here on Mondays, you know. Smelled so good I forgot to bless it first.” Arnold looked at his plate and went silent while he prayed.
She waited for him to finish and look up.
“My mom usually does dinners on Sundays, but Aunt Violet and Aunt Rose had a gig for their band and were in a tizzy, so Mom put it off.”
“Your Aunt Violet has been in a tizzy about something since 1945. Why should today be different?”
“It’s the whole family this time. It turns out my Grandma Rose had a beau before Grandfather. They found the man’s dog tags from the Korean War and you would have thought that we were going to war all over again.”
Arnold nodded. “I remember.”
“You do?”
“Sure. David Hutchins.”
“Little Mia found his dog tags in the attic. Grandma Rose said he died in the Korean War, but she has no idea how the dog tags got there. It’s added some excitement to the household.”
“So the Garner sisters have themselves a mystery, do they?” Arnold giggled like a small child, and she laughed at him.
“I wouldn’t say my aunts have a mystery. No, we granddaughters have ourselves a mystery because no one wants to talk about it, so naturally that makes us even more interested. He may not have died in the war after all.”
“Sometimes history is best left in the past.”
“I agree with you,” she said. “But if nothing else, we should get the dog tags back to their rightful owner, don’t you think? His family would probably want to have them.”
“You girls have no romantic notions about this former beau?”
“We’re keeping the aunts and Grandma Rose out of it for now. We know he survived the war, and we’ve tracked him from California to North Carolina. We’re trying to find out for certain if he’s still alive. Wouldn’t you want your dog tags returned to your family?”
“What’s Rose say about this?”
Zoe shook her head. “Not a thing. No use in getting her hopes up.”
“And Violet?”
“I don’t think she knows a thing about it.”
“I’ll bet she does.” Arnold chuckled as he swallowed another spoonful.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not a thing, Zoe. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. And I’d give up any idea of finding David. If he wanted to be found, I reckon he’d have come back a long time ago.”
Zoe wondered if that was true, but the romantic in her wasn’t about to let well enough alone. If her grandmother had another shot at love, there was hope for everyone. Cupid’s Arrow was about creating connections between people, and what better way to make it happen than with the public relations firestorm a love story resurrected from the fifties could start?
“Well, thanks for bringing by the dinner
, Zoe. It was wonderful, as always.”
“You want to come to my mom’s with me? I’m sure there’ll be some delicious dessert. And you never know if one of those Garner sisters isn’t worth a second look.” She grinned.
“I’ve been looking at those Garner sisters since I had the eyesight to see them, and none of them ever looked back in sixty years. Besides, it’s almost my bedtime. I never will understand you kids and your late nights.”
It was only five o’clock, but in an old logging town the men rose early and were home for supper by four thirty or so. Zoe went back to making coffee and chided herself for not spending more time with the people she fed. They needed more than a hot meal. “The coffee’s almost ready. I’d better be off to my mom’s before it gets dark.”
“Do you have anyone signed up for that dating service of yours yet?”
“I already have thirty people—can you believe it? I think some of them might be doing me a favor, but once I get going, they’ll see how believing in me did them the favor.”
“Paying to meet a mate. It sounds so backwards.”
“People don’t meet as easily as they once did, Arnold. Everything is all wired now. Face-to-face meetings are more difficult.”
“Speaking of wired.” Arnold put down his spoon. His bowl was wiped clean. “I don’t want you cooking in that old storefront until you get it checked out. The new city manager is right. Electrical is nothing to play with.”
She paused. “That’s right, you were an electrician at the mill. I’d forgotten.” She probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. Now Arnold would worry.
“You’re not old enough to remember when one of those old buildings went up in flames in the sixties. Zoe, it tore through that building so fast, there was nothing left of it in a matter of minutes. If the new city manager thinks you should get it checked out, you should get it checked out.”
“The problem is, I can’t afford to fix the wiring, and I promised Miss Draper that I wouldn’t bother her with repairs, so she gave me the rent for a song.”
