Karla narrowed her eyes as she took the headband from Violet. “So Dad’s okay with this?”
“Well, I think he’d rather have slept in for another hour, but...”
Karla affixed the headband in the mirror, then stopped herself as soon as she realized she was obediently reaching for her sneakers. How did Violet Sharpton do that to people? “This is...”
“The best thing for everyone. Karl needs this. You need a break. Dylan needs the business. Really, what kind of community are we if we don’t support our own?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! Karl’s just going to work the register, that’s all. I told him it’s practice for his grand return...whenever that ends up being.” Violet started for the door, then turned back. “Comb the back of your hair, child. It’s wild all over the place.”
Karla felt her mouth sag open. “I was just doing that.” She was glad she was already showered and had her makeup on for the day—Violet looked as if she would have yanked her out in her pajamas in another second. She shook her head in disbelief, but not before grabbing at the comb sitting next to the bowl of headbands and tucking it into her jeans pocket while smoothing the back of her hair with her other hand.
“Have you brushed your teeth?” Violet peered at her.
“Of course I have.” Karla tried not to grind the answer out through said teeth.
“Good—I would have waited for that, but we can get going.”
“Why do you or the fish care about my grooming habits anyway?”
Violet blinked like a caffeinated owl. “Well, not the fish.”
The knitting circle didn’t have a dress code that she had ever known... Wait a minute. “Violet...” Karla said slowly, the arc of the woman’s plan coming into view. “Oh, no. Stop that right now.”
A sugar-sweet smile spread across Violet’s face. “Stop what? Come on, dear, we need to go.” She tucked Karla’s hand into her elbow and ushered her out the door.
Karla yanked her hand free, needing to both slow things down and to lock her apartment door. “Stop pairing me off with Dylan McDonald!”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Violet’s hand went to her chest in the worst attempt at a “who, me?” Karla had ever seen. “The knitting circle is going fishing. You’re in the knitting circle. There’s no more to it than that.”
There was loads more to it than that. All of this was getting out of hand. Karla fought back with the only thing she could think of. “You’ve got eyes for my grandfather.” She wasn’t quite sure why that made any sense as a deterrent to her current “kidnapping,” but she hadn’t even been able to finish her first cup of coffee yet this morning.
At first she was delighted to see that stop Violet in her tracks, but the assessment proved premature. The senior citizen touched her elbow tenderly. “Well of course I do, sweetheart. I think your grandfather is the cat’s pajamas.” Her eyes took on a devious twinkle. “He’s a grand kisser, that Karl.”
Karla fell against the wall, hand on her forehead. “You’ve kissed Grandpa?”
Violet used this opportunity to zip up Karla’s hooded sweatshirt as if she were a five-year-old being shipped off to kindergarten. “You needn’t look so shocked. It’s the twenty-first century and we’re both consenting adults.”
“Does Dad know?” Karla gawked as she returned her zipper to its original low position.
“Oh, I’d never tell him. That one’s on Karl.” Violet turned toward the stairwell that led to Tyler Street. “We really do need to get a move on.”
If Violet Sharpton set out to share the one fact guaranteed to get Karla to follow her wherever she went for the next hour, she’d succeeded. She trailed the woman down the stairs, two dozen questions fighting for priority in her head. How? When? Why?
Why not? Was it really such an awful thing that Karl Kennedy had found love again in life? Hadn’t she suspected the same thing weeks ago?
“How long?” she managed to spurt out as they pushed out the door at the bottom of the stairs.
“About two weeks ago,” Violet trotted down Tyler Street in the direction of the boat docks as if the two of them were discussing the weather or sharing a new cake recipe. She threw a sparkling glance back at Karla. “Of course, that pot’s been simmering for nearly a year now. Takes men longer to catch on to these sorts of things, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Violet produced a tin of mints from her handbag and offered one to Karla. “Well, and right there’s your problem. What is it they say in that song from Hello, Dolly!? Something about Mother Nature needing a little help?”
Karla had seen the movie once back in high school, but she remembered enough to draw a striking comparison between the meddling Dolly and the woman currently dragging her toward a fishing boat. “Violet, I don’t need your—” she struggled for a polite term “—help on this.”
“Nonsense. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. For that matter, I’ve seen the way you look at him. And for crying out loud, I’ve seen the way he looks, period. What’s more of a hottie than a fireman? That’s the word you kids use now, isn’t it?”
Karla hadn’t used the term since high school, but that was beside the point. “Sure, he’s nice looking.” She would not bring herself to use the word hottie in front of Violet, although she wasn’t blind to Dylan’s handsome features. “But the timing’s way off here. He’s committed to Gordon Falls and I’m...” Leaving in a little over two weeks. She couldn’t say it. Certainly not to Violet if she and Karl were so close. She was going to have to tell Grandpa soon. Really soon. “My plans don’t really include living here.”
“Oh, I’ve heard all about your highbrow breakfast spot plans. I like a woman determined to make her way in the world. But I ask you...” She turned the last corner to wave enthusiastically at the rest of the knitting circle gathered with Dylan on the dock. A cheer went up and Violet pumped her fist victoriously in the air, making Karla feel like some kind of contest prize. “What’s the point of any success if there isn’t someone to share it with?”
Karla couldn’t think of any response except an exasperated groan.
* * *
There had been a regrettable ten-second stretch where Dylan thought this was a good idea. Unfortunately, by the time those ten seconds were up, Violet Sharpton was already headed down the road with her cell phone to her ear. Now, as he watched her walk up to the docks with a decidedly befuddled and not-exactly-awake Karla in tow, he couldn’t possibly weigh in on the merits of the plan.
He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find her fascinating before, in a clever, woman-going-places kind of way. Her sleek hair, city clothes, the rather exotic way she smelled, even the sophistication of her makeup appealed to him in a way that Gordon Falls’ “girl next door” types never had. He’d always gone for the sophisticated women—that wasn’t much of a surprise, even if it might have been his downfall.
What was a surprise was how the sight of a barely up-and-running Karla charmed him. Somehow, in their earlier fishing trip, she’d still managed to look pulled together. Drowsy, but still her unique brand of low-key stylish. Now, she looked as if Violet had dragged her out of bed. The red headband she wore made the indigo in her eyes pop against her pale skin, even with her hair all sticking up in the back as if she’d slept on it wrong. And the cooking school sweatshirt? It gave her an unkempt, almost-intimate quality that grew rocks in his stomach. Adorable was for puppies, baby ducks and the like, but he couldn’t come up with another word. Under any other circumstances, the hum in his gut might have had him leaning against the boat rail, chin in his hand, staring at her. He’d have to get that impulse under control before these knitting grandmothers took that ball of yarn and ran with it.
“And good morning to you,” Charlotte Taylor teased, holding out a tin mug of coffe
e from Dylan’s onboard thermos. Charlotte was no grandmother—she was going to be Jesse Sykes’s bride in a few months if Jesse went ahead with his plans to pop the question. At least he wouldn’t be the only one on the boat in his twenties; on some excursions he felt like the baby of the bunch.
Karla stood on the dock with an amused scowl. “Seems I’ve been kidnapped to go fishing.”
“There are worse fates,” Jeannie Owens consoled. “And I brought chocolate.” Since Jeannie owned the town candy shop, Dylan suspected she’d be packing confections for the trip. She’d already deposited a small bag of goodies in his captain’s chair.
Karla eyed Dylan. “Were you in on this?”
“Absolutely not.” He was glad he didn’t have to hedge on that point. Would he have been glad to know she was coming? Yes. A large part of him yearned to get her back out on the river with him—it had been the most fun he’d had in months. As it was, it felt like that moment on a middle school playground where a herd of boys pushes one poor guy up toward an embarrassed middle school girl flanked by a gaggle of conniving friends. He shrugged at Karla. “Still, a day off’s a day off, right?”
The ladies sent up a chorus of agreement as they boarded. If he could manage to stay in control of the situation, this still had a shot at being fun. Only that was a whopping “if” with this crowd.
Imagine his surprise when the women settled into their seats quickly to leave the only open seat for Karla up next to him. He kept his eyes on the dock lines rather than reveal how amusing he found the flush in her cheeks. Who knew he’d find the pink shade of her lips even more attractive than the alluring burgundy lip gloss she normally wore?
“Where are we headed?” she asked, her hair still fluttering across her face despite the headband. It was a sensible question, but her eyes flashed an “I have no idea what’s going on here” panic. He knew the sensation—it was like being cornered, only a whole lot nicer than that.
“They all want to go where you landed your big fish.”
“That’s right,” called Tina from her place at the back of the boat. “We want to come home with big trophy fish, too. Show those men how well a lady can land a whopper.” A chorus of encouragement piped up around the boat. Dylan said a silent prayer for fishing favor—he definitely didn’t want to bring these women home empty-handed after they’d been so supportive of him. Only he couldn’t quite say if this was commercial support or just the most creative bit of social meddling he’d ever seen.
Pulling into the cove where he’d spent that enjoyable morning with Karla, Dylan dropped anchor and began to get out the poles. “Okay, ladies, how many of you have fished before?”
All hands went up. Good. With a full boat, it was better not to have first-timers. He pulled the tub of bait from the cooler. “You can all bait your own hooks?” Again, all affirmatives—even Karla, who’d surprised him by mastering the art on their last trip. He gave them a few other instructions, finding himself more and more entertained at the constant words of encouragement that flowed back and forth between the women. Men were, for the most part, much more competitive when they fished.
The ladies sorted themselves out around the back of the boat, not-too-subtly leaving the bow for Dylan and Karla.
“Do you think they’re up to something?” Dylan finally chuckled, thinking it was better to own up to things than opt for denial.
“Gosh, whatever gave you that idea?” Karla’s eyes grew wide in mock astonishment.
“They’re just having a bit of fun, you know.” He shot a glance back at the group, who were chatting away between casting lines or throwing an occasional look at him and Karla with whispered commentary. “Harmless, mostly.” Then, just to take the edge off, he said, “Maybe I should tango with you up here—you know, something just to show them up.”
It was a terrible idea, but he couldn’t ignore that there was a part of him that wanted to pursue Karla. It was just that there were too many other parts of him ready to shut down that idea for the dead-end prospect that it was.
“You know how to tango?”
He regretted the slip. “I took classes. Yvonne thought it was trendy and liked to show off at parties.” His brain concocted the split-second image of Karla’s dark hair trailing down as he took her into a low dip—the exact opposite of Yvonne’s tight, sophisticated bun of blond hair—and he swallowed more coffee to clear his head. He leaned starboard for a second, knowing it would rock the boat a bit. “Nautical tango. Bad idea. One of us would end up swimming.”
“If not both of us.” Karla selected a worm, dangling it up. “Help me pick a loser here.”
“A what?”
“Look,” she edged closer, lowering her voice, “the last thing I need is to catch another big fish today. Someone else needs to land in the limelight this morning, if you know what I mean. Gordon Falls’ champion female fisherman should be someone who is staying longer than one season, don’t you think?”
He liked that she thought of the others, even after they’d abducted her and played dockside matchmaker. Still, was she going out of her way to remind him that her time in Gordon Falls was coming to an end? He leaned in and took the worm from her, slyly returning it to the bait container. “Don’t bait your hook at all. Just drop it in the water bare. I’ll cover for you.”
“Oooh!” came an excited squeal from the back of the boat. “I’ve got one!”
“See?” Dylan found himself smiling at her. “My plan’s working already.”
* * *
By the time they’d finished their morning expedition, the women had become suspicious of Karla’s lack of success. They teased her about “letting Tina win,” especially when Tina landed a nice big bluegill that should meet her requirement for a good showing with the menfolk. In fact, Karla was the only person not to pull in several nice fish, and she didn’t seem to mind her empty haul one bit.
“I had fun,” she said as Dylan helped her climb out of the boat. “Unexpected, way-too-early fun, but fun just the same.”
“Now you can talk me up to all your city friends.” Dylan had meant it to sound casual, but it put a sore punctuation on the end of what had been a really enjoyable morning. For all the growing attraction he felt for Karla, nothing changed the fact that she’d be moving 160 miles away in a matter of weeks. She’d even told him her secret about the incredible internship she’d been offered—how on earth could he hope to compete with that kind of opportunity? Only a jerk would try to draw a smart woman away from such a bright future.
As for right now, the pressure was on. They had two weeks to finish plans for the celebration and concoct the surprise handoff to Violet and Karl—and speaking of surprises! When Karla confided what she’d learned about the two seniors, Dylan nearly dropped his pole into the river.
It was the last thing he needed; another Gordon Falls man finding true love. Some days small towns were just too small.
Chapter Eleven
“Come here, Karla. I don’t think I’ve ever shown you this.” Grandpa methodically worked his way through the stock room at the back of the coffee shop to the little alcove where he kept a small desk and a drawer of files. He wasn’t here in a working capacity today—he hadn’t yet officially returned—but was just stopping by for a visit.
She followed her grandfather to the back office, remembering how much she’d loved sitting with him back here when she was little—it was like a secret hiding place. Even when he hadn’t been in the shop in weeks, no one sat at the desk in his absence; it was Karl’s space and probably always would be. A little knot rose in her throat as she watched him ease himself carefully into the old chair. The day of “Karl’s without Karl” was coming. It was probably nearer than anyone cared to admit. Karla couldn’t stand the thought, and yet it was clear to everyone—except Grandpa—that it was too much for him to handle alone. It made it so much harder to t
ell him she was leaving.
She edged past a box of paper napkins to join him in the cluttered little corner. “What did you want to show me, Grandpa?”
He pointed to a framed dollar bill hanging on the wall. It wasn’t an unusual thing—many restaurants and lots of businesses framed their first transaction and hung it on the wall. “I’ve seen this before. It’s your first dollar, I know.”
Grandpa lifted the small black frame from its place on the wall. Karla wasn’t that surprised to see a faded spot in its place—the thing had been hanging there for years. “Yes, but read the inscription.”
There, in faded ballpoint pen, were the words Best Wishes, Oscar.
“Oscar was your first customer?” It was hard to envision him wishing anyone well.
“He was different back then. We were good friends.” Regret softened Grandpa’s eyes and his words. Suddenly it was easier to see why he put up with the sour-faced grocer and kept his coffee at a ridiculous price.
She sat down on a box, staring at the words. “What happened?”
“He was married, you know. He and his wife, Alice, were the best of friends with your grandmother and I. Did all kinds of stuff together. Alice was your father’s godmother. We had grand times.”
Karla looked up. “And then?”
“Oscar opened the store a year before I opened this place. We’d spend endless hours plotting and planning our little town empires.” He chuckled. “Oh, we had such dreams—Oscar more than me. He wanted to own a chain of grocery stores up and down the river. I think he would, too, if it hadn’t been for Alice.”
“Alice?”
Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday FamilySugar Plum SeasonHer Cowboy HeroSmall-Town Fireman Page 69
