Corbin's Bend Homecoming

by Ruth Staunton

  Norah had automatically headed out the door toward her own car, but his suggestion made sense. Having a truck would be much more convenient if she did find quite a bit of inventory she wanted to bring back. “That’s a good idea,” she agreed. “Did you park out back?” She assumed he had since there was no sign of his truck in the front parking lot where her car sat.

  Caine nodded. “I came in through the storage room.”

  That wasn’t surprising. All the workers seemed to come in through the back entrance by habit. Caine came to join her, and they walked around the building together. His battered pickup truck, its door emblazoned with his Mark of Caine logo, was parked near the back entrance. Hearing them approach, Maverick stuck his head over the tailgate, barking enthusiastically. Norah moved automatically to pet him, laughing when Maverick began licking her chin.

  “Mind if he comes along?” Caine asked. “I can leave him with Jerry if you’d rather.”

  “Nonsense,” Norah told him. “I don’t mind at all, at least as long as he won’t eat my books.”

  “Mav won’t touch anything I tell him not to,” Caine assured her. “He’s well-trained.”

  “He’s smart as a whip is what he is,” Norah said. “Aren’t you, boy?” Maverick gave a high yip in reply, making both Norah and Caine laugh. Giving Maverick one last pat, Norah went around to the passenger side of the truck. To her surprise, Caine did as well, moving around her and going to open the door for her.

  It was a simple gesture, but the old world courtesy and romance of it made warmth bloom low in her belly. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had opened a door for her. John would have never considered it since his colleagues would have taken it as at best, condescending and at worst, downright offensive. Norah found it endearing. It brought out a smile quite unconsciously. “Thank you,” she said softly as he helped her up into the truck. He closed the door, and she buckled her seatbelt while he went around and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Okay, my lady, where are we headed?” Caine asked, pulling out and heading for the entrance to Corbin’s Bend.

  Norah grinned at his teasing. “My plan was to pick up a newspaper at the gas station and go from there.”

  “As you wish,” Caine said with just a bit of teasing lilt.

  “Why thank you, Wesley,” Norah shot back in the same tone.

  Caine looked back at her blankly. “Wesley?”

  “Oh, come on, surely you know that reference. You were the one who started it with your ‘as you wish’,” Norah said.

  Caine’s brow furrowed even more deeply. “What reference? I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only teasing.”

  “The Princess Bride. You know, how the character Wesley always says ‘As you wish’? Norah explained.

  “Is that a movie?” Caine asked.

  Norah stared at him, flabbergasted. “You’re serious. You’ve never seen The Princess Bride?”

  Caine shook his head. “Nope.”

  “And all that, ‘as you wish’ stuff was just coincidental?” Norah went on.

  Caine shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I was teasing, maybe trying to be funny a little. I wanted to make you smile.”

  “But you weren’t quoting the movie?” Norah pressed.

  “I’ve never seen the movie,” Caine replied. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Clearly I’m missing something here.”

  “How can you have never seen The Princess Bride?” Norah demanded, aghast. “It’s a classic.”

  They had reached the gas station. Caine pulled into a parking space and turned off the ignition. “I didn’t really watch a lot of movies as a kid. You said you were going to pick up a newspaper?”

  “Yeah, just let me grab one.” She hopped out of the truck and slid change into the dispenser in front of the building. By the time she made it back to the truck, she was searching through the yard sales in the classifieds with a familiarity born of long practice.

  “Which of these is closer?” she asked, holding out the paper to Caine and pointing to a couple of ads advertising multifamily yard sales and one for a thrift store.

  “The thrift store is closer,” Caine told her.

  “Let’s hit it first then,” Norah decided.

  “Okay,” Caine said, putting the key in the ignition and cranking up the truck. “We can probably do it first and then hit the other the two. They are all fairly close.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Norah agreed, smiling. “So where did you grow up that The Princess Bride hadn’t made it to yet?” she asked after they had gotten back onto the road.

  “Louisiana,” Caine replied, dropping instantaneously into the accent that made the word sound like Lou-zee-ana. “Bayou country.”

  “That’s a long way from Colorado,” Norah commented. “How did you end up here?”

  “Short-lived stint in the Air Force,” Caine said. “It didn’t really take. Turns out I’m not so good at being told what to do, but it did have the advantage of getting me the hell out of the bayou.” He glanced at Norah. “What about you? Where did you grow up?”

  “Connecticut,” Norah told him, “though I’ve lived all over New England.”

  “What made you decide to come out here?” Caine questioned.

  “Aside from the obvious?” Norah said dryly. “Mostly, I came out here for Corbin’s Bend. I wanted to live somewhere where I could be myself, and be honest about the kind of relationship I wanted and needed. When I found out there was no bookstore in the community, it pretty much sealed the deal. I’ve worked in bookstores and libraries most of my adult life. The opportunity to run my own and live the lifestyle I choose seemed almost too good to be true.”

  “Do you have family back east?” Caine wanted to know.

  Norah shrugged. “My parents are there, but we’ve never been particularly close. I’m an only child, and my husband passed away three years ago. There are a few friends I miss, but there was no real reason for me to stay.

  “What about you? Any family back in Louisiana?”

  “No,” Caine said just a tad too quickly. “No family to speak of. Been on my own for years.”

  “Have you always been a carpenter?” Norah asked.

  Caine nodded. “I’ve been working with wood since I was old enough to hold a sanding block. Don’t ever remember a time when I wasn’t doing it, to tell you the truth.”

  “So it’s something you’ve always wanted to do,” Norah said.

  Now it was Caine’s turn to shrug. “It’s something I’m good at. Never been much of a book person. I’ll pick up a western or a Clancy every now and then, but I never was much for book learning. I’d rather get my hands in it and do something real.”

  Coming from him, that made perfect sense. He was more competent, practical, and real than any of the men Norah had ever known in the academic world she had come from. Next to Caine, most of them seemed frivolous at best and downright absurd at worst. None of them would’ve ever ended up getting their hands dirty in a way that Caine did on a daily basis. In the short time Norah had known him, she had never seen him be the least bit fastidious or fussy about anything. He was always neat even in paint splattered jeans or the battered hiking boots and cargo shorts he was wearing today. Still, she had never seen him hesitate to haul boxes or get elbow deep in sheet rock mud or wrestle on the floor with the dog. He seemed to dive right into everything he did with the same sort of practical confidence and lack of fuss.

  It was a confidence of a very different sort than the one that came from degrees or articles published or awards won. She doubted Caine would ever put much stock in any of that sort of thing. John’s life had revolved around those things, and so, for many years, hers had as well. It all seemed a lifetime ago now and utterly meaningless for the weeks and months of stress it all caused.

  Lost in her thoughts as she was, Norah almost missed the handwritten posterboard tacked to the tree on the side of the road. A flash of red caught her eye, and she realize
d belatedly that it was a sign, sloppily printed in red paint, advertising a yard sale. “Wait! Stop!” she blurted.

  Caine slammed on the brakes. “What’s wrong?” he gasped, eyes wide and frantic.

  “Back up, I want to check out that yard sale we just passed,” Norah commanded.

  “What the hell?” Caine demanded, even as he put the truck into reverse. “You nearly gave me heart failure because you saw a yard sale.”

  “It caught me off guard,” she said by way of explanation. “I almost missed it. I didn’t notice it until we had already passed it.”

  “No kidding,” Caine said dryly. “You didn’t have to scream your head off though. You could’ve just told me. I would’ve found somewhere to pull over and turn around. It’s not a life-threatening emergency.”

  “Sorry,” Norah said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She hadn’t, but considering she had been pretty startled herself, she didn’t think he could really blame her.

  Caine continued to grumble and growl under his breath as they made their way back to the road side yard sale. Norah paid him no mind, twisting in her seat to try and see whether she could spot anything good amongst the merchandise scattered in the yard they had passed. As soon as Caine pulled off the road and cut the engine, Norah jumped out and hurried over to scrounge through the various boxes of smaller merchandise, leaving Caine to trail behind shaking his head in her wake.

  Norah was going to be the death of him, Caine decided. She had taken ten years off his life when she shrieked like that. His heart was still racing as he climbed out of the truck and tried to will himself to calm down. He reached behind the seat and grabbed Maverick’s leash before going around the back of the truck and letting the dog out. Truthfully, Mav would stay right by his side even without the leash, but in an unfamiliar environment, he wasn’t taking any chances. Caine clicked his fingers and silently curled his hand into a fist. Maverick dropped obediently into a sitting position, waiting patiently while Caine clipped the leash onto his collar.

  Keeping Maverick close by his side, Caine moved slowly around the various goods piled up on folding tables and boxes. As far as he could tell, it was by and large junk. Most of it seemed to be destined for the landfill. Norah didn’t seem to be phased by that though. She was sitting on her haunches digging happily through a cardboard box, a small stack of battered paperback books accumulating next to her foot.

  “Finding something interesting?” Caine asked, coming over to peer over her shoulder into the box she was digging through.

  Norah shrugged. “It’s nothing special, but romances are always popular. These are older, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

  Caine eyed the books dubiously. They looked pretty ragged if you asked him. The pages were yellowed at the edges and the covers were dented and frayed at the corners. “If you say so.”

  “I have to start somewhere,” Norah replied. “The bulk of my inventory will be new books, but I want to have a used book program too where customers can trade in used books for credit toward getting used books that are new to them. These aren’t the best, but they are a start.” Moving over to another box, Norah rummaged through it briefly before gathering up her accumulated pile of books and getting to her feet. “These are marked at fifty cents each, but I bet I can get her down to a quarter a piece.” She strode off in the direction of where the proprietor of the yard sale sat holding court from a folding lawn chair.

  Caine watched her go, swallowing on a smile. His earlier irritation fading away in an instant. Her enthusiasm and determination were contagious, and she was just so darn cute.

  They made several more stops like that throughout the morning, winding their way through small towns and stopping at random yard sales, junk shops, and cramped little stores that masqueraded as antique shops. Forewarned by his previous experience, Caine started to keep an eye out himself, and by the third time it happened, he was already slowing down by the time Norah’s excited shout came. At each one, Norah would dig through boxes and piles on tables in search of books. Sometimes, Caine would let Maverick out to run around and stay outside with him. Other times, he would browse on his own or simply follow Norah, watching amusedly while she plowed excitedly through dusty stacks of books.

  Slowly but steadily she accumulated a stack of dusty battered books, mostly paperbacks but with a few scattered hardbacks mixed in. They followed no discernible pattern that Caine could find, but each time Norah bubbled with excitement like a child. It was incredibly endearing. Her eyes lit up like emeralds, and an adorable flush spread across her cheeks. Caine found himself fighting an increasingly strong urge to kiss her, first on the tip of her nose and then on her soft pink lips. He forced himself to shut down the impulse. That road led to hell or at the very least, disaster. For one, he was working for her. He never ever mixed business with pleasure. Getting involved with a client was tantamount to committing career suicide. He might have been being paid by the development and not Norah directly, but it was still an extremely bad idea. For another, Norah was from Corbin’s Bend. She was one of them, and he most assuredly was not. He might not judge their lifestyle, but he knew damn well it was one he could never practice himself. Knowing that Norah wanted and expected that type of lifestyle just made getting involved with her an even worse idea. It was tempting. It was oh so tempting, but it was a temptation he could never give in to.

  He kept that thought in the forefront of his mind as they made their way through one or two more neighborhood yard sales. These, unfortunately, turned out to be a bust. When they got back in the truck after the last one, Norah collapsed back against the truck seat, clearly disappointed. “That was the last of my list from the newspaper. I guess we’re done.”

  “Not quite,” he told her, pulling out onto the road. “We’ve got one more stop.”

  “We do?” Norah asked, confused. “Where?”

  Caine smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

  “How can you have a surprise?” Norah demanded. “You didn’t even know you were coming with me until this morning.”

  “I have my ways,” Caine said. He didn’t offer any further explanation. Norah, despite having appeared to be frankly exhausted only moments before, was practically vibrating with curiosity.

  “Will you give me a hint?” Norah questioned a moment later.

  “Nope,” Caine said, never taking his eyes off the road.

  She lasted perhaps five minutes longer before she said again, “Just one tiny hint.”

  Caine laughed. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

  “I’m not asking you to tell me,” Norah argued. “I’m asking you to give me a hint. It’s not telling me if I guess it.”

  “It’s not much of a surprise either,” Caine countered. “You’ll like it. I promise. Just trust me.”

  Norah shot him a withering look but subsided, flopping back against her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Don’t pout,” Caine chided gently.

  “I’m not,” Norah insisted.

  She most certainly was, but since Caine found it particularly adorable, he didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he tried to distract her with small talk, telling stories about some of his more memorable customers, like one particular couple who insisted that he build an elaborate back deck completely around an existing tree they wanted to save.

  “And you did it?” Norah asked.

  “Of course I did,” Caine said smugly. “Not only did I build it, but I very nearly had to take it back down because the first time the homeowners saw it, they decided they didn’t like it after all.”

  “You’re kidding,” Norah said incredulously.

  “I’m not,” Caine replied seriously. “Luckily though, after a couple days, they changed their minds and decided it had grown on them and ended up keeping it.”

  By the time they arrived at the Mile High Market in Henderson, a massive flea market that included a farmer’s market and a number of permanent shops and restaura
nts as well as a carnival for children, they were laughing easily. Norah climbed out of the truck, wide-eyed in amazement.

  “This place is huge,” she said in awed tones.

  Caine grinned. “I thought you might like it.” Since it was now early afternoon, they went first in search of food, ending up buying a late lunch from one of the stalls in the farmer’s market. They walked and ate while Norah ooohhed and awwed over the variety of fresh fruits and vegetables available. As soon as she finished eating, she bought a canvas bag from another of the vendors and began picking out fruits and vegetables to purchase. “What happened to looking for books?” Caine teased.

  “I’ll do that too,” Norah assured him, “but I might as well take advantage of this while I’m here. It’s not like I have access to this kind of fresh produce in Corbin’s Bend.” She bent over a bin of tomatoes, examining them and testing them carefully.

  “Do you cook?” Caine asked. Since she clearly knew what she was doing, he suspected she knew her way around the kitchen quite well.

  “Oh yes,” Norah replied. “I love to cook. I don’t do it so much anymore because it’s just not as much fun cooking for one, but I enjoy cooking when I get a chance. What about you? Do you cook?”

  Caine had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I’m from Louisiana. Of course I cook. Food is practically the state’s favorite pass time.” His memories of learning to cook were some of his favorite memories of Mamere, his grandmother, and he had continued to do the majority of the cooking for the household after her death. Lord knew Ruben was hopeless in the kitchen. The man could burn water.

  “Excuse me,” Norah said in a light teasing tone. “I didn’t mean to insult your cooking skills. I’m just an ignorant Connecticut Yankee, remember?”

  Caine shook his head. “Bless your heart. You poor thing,” he retorted in the same tone. “I’ll have to cook for you one of these days.”

  “I’d like that,” Norah told him.

  Caine quite liked that idea himself. Like Norah, he didn’t cook much. It just wasn’t worth the trouble with only himself to cook for. He very much liked the idea of cooking for her however. With that in mind, he appropriated his own bag and began picking out ingredients with an eye toward making a pot of Mamere’s gumbo—tomatoes, peppers, okra. He couldn’t get seafood here like he could back home on the gulf, but he could get decent sausage, and he knew a fish market that carried a good selection of freshwater fish. It wouldn’t come close to the original, but it would be far superior to anything commercially found around here.