Sweet Laurel Falls

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “What about Evie?” Claire said. “She’s barely left Brodie’s side since September.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Evie replied, though she wore that same kind of knowing, well-satisfied smile.

  A completely unexpected envy pinched at her as she studied her two dear friends. Except for a few dates here and there, Maura had been alone since she and Chris had called it quits years ago. She had tried to convince herself she needed to focus on raising her daughters, not bringing in man after man to complicate their lives and dilute her attentions. But that was small comfort on cold winter nights when she really missed having someone to snuggle on the sofa with and watch the flames dance in the fireplace while the snow piled up outside and storm winds howled under the eaves.

  “I’m hearing rumors,” Mary Ella said. “Any truth to them?”

  “Katherine,” Evie exclaimed to Brodie’s mother.

  “I didn’t say a word, I swear,” Katherine protested.

  “It wasn’t Kat,” Mary Ella said. “I just happened to be in Reverend Wilson’s office this week, working on organizing the choir music, when a certain handsome young restaurant owner who shall remain nameless came in asking about Saturdays in March when the church might be available.”

  Evie was the one blushing now, and Maura mentally threw up her hands, though she smiled at the same time. Any chance of having an intelligent discussion about books was hopeless now that another wedding was apparently in the air.

  “Oh, no. Not you too!” Alex exclaimed.

  “I didn’t mean to spoil your surprise, my dear.” Mary Ella sent her an apologetic look.

  “It’s all right,” Evie assured her. “I was going to tell everyone tonight anyway.”

  She held up her left hand, where a beautiful emerald glistened. “It’s true. We’re looking at March. I hope you can all be there. I’m going to be sending out invitations in the next week or so. I know it’s short notice, but Taryn is doing so well, we just wanted to celebrate and start moving on with our lives together.”

  “Oh, congratulations, honey,” Maura said. She hugged her friend, and for the next half hour, Evie made the rounds of the book group, showing off her ring and accepting congratulations and talking wedding plans.

  Maura listened to the discussion with her heart a little lighter than when she had started the evening. She loved weddings and was genuinely happy for Evie and Brodie. After all these years, Taryn would have a loving stepmother, Katherine would gain a dear friend for a daughter-in-law, and Brodie couldn’t find a better woman than Evie.

  After the pain of the last year, they all deserved to be happy. Taryn had survived the accident that killed Layla, her best friend, but had been seriously wounded. Despite her own misgivings, Evie, a former physical therapist, had agreed to help with Taryn’s recovery. In the process of helping the girl heal from both her physical and emotional wounds, Evie and Brodie had fallen in love.

  Maura sat back now and listened to the conversation flow around her, about flowers and decorations and picking out dresses.

  “Too bad nobody brought champagne,” Angie said. “We need to toast to the happy couple.”

  “I can grab some ginger ale from the refrigerator in the back,” Maura said. “And don’t forget we still have Alex’s yummies. What did you bring this week?”

  “A new cheesecake recipe I’m trying out. White chocolate.”

  Everybody moaned with appreciation, except Ruth, who wasn’t crazy about chocolate—white, milk or semisweet—and Charlotte Caine, whom they all knew was trying hard to lose weight.

  Alex, who could be surprisingly thoughtful at times, especially when it came to food, produced an angel food cake for the two of them. “No chocolate. And only one-hundred-fifty calories,” she told Charlotte.

  For the next few minutes, Maura was busy finding glasses and ginger ale for everyone while her sister served up dessert.

  “So what else is new with everyone else?” Claire asked when they all seemed settled with refreshments.

  “I’m already planning another cruise,” Katherine said. “I’m thinking the Panama Canal this time. I’m going to see if I can drag Ruth along to this one.”

  “We’ll see,” Ruth said with a grunt.

  “I think you need to go on one of those Sexy Senior Singles cruises,” Alex said. “Mom, you should go with them too.”

  Mary Ella rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking for romance—any more than you seem to be.”

  “Neither am I,” Ruth said. “Now, sex, on the other hand…”

  Everybody laughed hard at that, even Maura, until Alex turned to her. “Speaking of sex. Or at least sexy. I see we’ve got a new business opening up in the old insurance company office.”

  Maura could feel heat seep into her cheeks and she sipped at her ginger ale, hoping nobody noticed. She still wasn’t quite sure how Jack had taken his fledgling idea over the holidays of opening an office of Lange & Associates in Hope’s Crossing and turned it into firm reality in only three weeks. “It’s a temporary situation. Jack has some projects in the area and he needed a local base.”

  “Has Sage started working for him yet?” Angie asked.

  “Last week. So far she loves it.”

  “I was so hoping she would be here tonight so I could ask her what it’s like to work so closely with a world-renowned architect,” Mary Ella said.

  “She’s only been working for him a week, so I’m not sure she’s really qualified to answer that yet. I do know the work must be tiring. I think she’s been in bed by eight-thirty every night. I’m hoping she didn’t catch a touch of Owen and Macy’s bug.”

  Maura did her best to conceal her worry for Sage from her mother and the other women. Something was wrong with her daughter. She knew it in her gut. Since Sage had returned from several days spent in Boulder to fix her car and clean out her dorm room ten days earlier, she had been withdrawn and quiet.

  During her first year of college, whenever Sage would return home on breaks, the two of them would stay up talking for hours. She couldn’t manage to turn off her daughter’s chatter and she hadn’t wanted to, even when she was exhausted from working all day.

  This time around, Sage seemed to want to do nothing but read, watch television and sleep.

  If this didn’t improve in a week or two, especially now that Sage had the added stimulation and challenge of working with her father, Maura planned to insist she make a visit to their family doctor.

  “So how is it having Jackson Lange back in town?” Evie asked.

  Maura concentrated on the bite of very delicious cheesecake melting in her mouth. “Fine, as far as I know,” she finally said. “I haven’t seen the man since the holidays.”

  That was one good thing about Sage working for him. She spent all day with him at the small office up the street, and they hadn’t socialized much together, which meant Maura’s interactions with Jack had become nonexistent.

  “I heard he’s renting a place up in the Aspen Ridge development,” Angie said. “Gina Coletti has a place there and said he’s in the same unit with her.”

  Sage hadn’t mentioned that, but then Maura had tried very hard not to ask about her daughter’s father. Aspen Ridge was only a few streets away from her house. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Jack living so close to her.

  “It’s only temporary,” she said again, wondering just who she was trying to convince. She quickly and deliberately changed the subject by turning to Evie. “How’s Taryn these days? I haven’t seen her since before Christmas.”

  “She amazes me every day. You heard she was back in school, right? She started after the holidays. With the tutors she had in the fall, she’s not even very far behind. Can you believe that? And she’s catching up quickly. We’ll have to drop by the bookstore after school one day to say hi. I think Taryn would like that.”

  “I’m so happy she’s improving. Please tell her I would love to see her.”

  “I will.” Evie paused, then lowered
her voice while the conversation flowed around them. “I should probably tell you that she and Charlie still email when they can. He happened to mention in an email that you sent a Christmas package to him at the juvenile detention center.”

  Maura avoided her friend’s gaze, embarrassed to have that small gesture become common knowledge. “He has plenty of time on his hands. I thought he might enjoy exploring some good books while he’s there.”

  Evie squeezed her fingers. “Just for the record, you’re one of the very best people I know, Maura.”

  What a joke that was. Inside she felt bitter and shriveled and angry at the world. “It was no big deal. I run a bookstore, Evie. Books are kind of easy for me to lay my hands on.” She paused, compelled to ask, though she didn’t really want to know the answer. “How much longer does he have?”

  “Nine months.”

  “What’s in nine months?” Alex asked, overhearing. “Don’t tell me you’ve got another announcement, Evie!”

  “No!” the other woman exclaimed. “Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. Or pleasant, for that matter. I was telling Maura that Charlie Beaumont has nine more months in his sentence before he’s released from juvenile detention.”

  Alex’s teasing smile slid away, replaced by the sharp, hard lines of anger. “Not nearly long enough for the little bastard. He killed our Layla and almost killed Taryn. For that, he gets less than a year in youth corrections? It’s heinous.”

  Evie opened her mouth, but closed it again. Maura knew Evie was somewhat sympathetic to the boy, who had been driving impaired when he’d slid into a tree. Charlie Beaumont had been a huge part of Taryn’s recovery. Maura knew that. Facts had emerged at Charlie’s sentencing hearing that cast a new light on the details leading up to the accident, but she wasn’t nearly as forgiving.

  If not for Charlie’s decision to drink and drive and then to try outrunning a police officer—her brother Riley—Layla might be waiting home for her right now to giggle and gossip and talk about school.

  “I heard Mayor Beaumont is trying to get him out early on good behavior so he can go to Genevieve’s wedding,” Ruth interjected.

  “I think Gen would prefer he stay locked up,” Claire said. “She doesn’t want anything to ruin her perfect day, especially not her juvenile delinquent of a brother. Her extremely gorgeous fiancé and his snobby family might not like it.”

  Maura didn’t want to talk about Charlie Beaumont—or for that matter, Genevieve and her grand society wedding in only a few month’s time—so she again deftly maneuvered the conversation back to safer waters by asking Claire about the second annual Giving Hope Day, which was in the planning stages.

  As Claire launched excitedly into her spiel about how this one would be bigger and better, Maura sat back, marveling at how adroit she had become at social manipulation when the need arose. Yet another unwanted skill she had developed over the past year.

  * * *

  THE BOOK CLUB—IF IT could legitimately still call itself anything remotely literary after tonight—wrapped up around the time the store closed. She ushered the last of her friends out, then spent another twenty minutes cleaning up while the clerks went through their closing procedures.

  “Need me to vacuum in here?” April Herrera asked.

  “No. I’ve got it. Thanks. Good night.”

  She had a cleaning crew, but over the past year she had reduced their work to twice a week for deep cleaning, while she and her employees took care of the superficial cleaning the rest of the time.

  By the time she finished vacuuming the store, her arms ached and she had a slight headache from the noise of her heavy old unit, but the carpets didn’t have so much as a stray piece of lint. She returned the vacuum to the stockroom, then gave the store one last cursory look before she locked the door.

  In the dim lights, the books gleamed on the shelves and it smelled rich and familiar, of coffee grounds and leather and the delicious mix of ink on new paper. She always had to stop and inhale when she walked into her store, absorbing the smell of new books—of humor and obscure facts and adventures waiting to be discovered.

  She loved this place. Pride and contentment were familiar companions as she looked around at what she had built on her own. Yes, Chris had insisted on very generous child support payments and alimony after the divorce. His career by then had exploded, and he had erroneously given her much of the credit for pushing him and believing in his vision of his music.

  She couldn’t deny his seed money had been a huge help in the beginning, but her own elbow grease and ingenuity had certainly played a part in the success of Dog-Eared Books & Brew. With luck and hard work, she really hoped she could keep the store thriving.

  But not tonight. Tonight she wanted to collapse into her bed and block out the world. Tired and more than ready for the long day to be over, she unlocked the door and let herself out, then locked it again.

  The storm that had dropped a couple of inches of new snow on the ski slopes earlier seemed to have passed over, leaving the night icy but clear and beautiful.

  She tightened her scarf and headed for her vehicle, parked off Main Street in one of the rare side lots. Parking was such a pain. As an old silver-mining town founded before the turn of the twentieth century, Hope’s Crossing hadn’t been designed to accommodate modern traffic, forget about the hordes of tourists who could descend on any given winter weekend to ski and shop and eat. She didn’t mind the walk, though, especially with the bright sprawl of stars overhead.

  With the new snow, everything looked fresh and clean in the moonlight.

  She would have a better view of the stars if she took her snowshoes up the Woodrose Mountain trail on a midnight hike above the ambient light of the city, but she rarely had the energy for much anymore except soaking in the hot tub after a long day of work.

  Her path to her vehicle led her past the former insurance agency, now with a tasteful sign in sans serif script that read Lange & Associates, Architectural and Design Services. Just as she reached the edge of the storefront, the door opened and out of the corner of her gaze she saw Jack walk out. She might have thought he had been lying in wait just for her to pass by, if he hadn’t immediately turned around to lock the door behind him without even acknowledging her presence.

  He wore that same tailored leather jacket and a gray scarf. On some men she might have considered the scarf an affectation, but on Jack, it looked masculine and sexy.

  Something in her stomach tugged, sweet and pliable as taffy, and she frowned, greatly tempted to slide into the shadows and keep walking. She sighed and slowed her steps. She was many things, but she generally tried hard not to be rude.

  “Hi.”

  She was a little gratified when he jerked in surprise at her greeting and looked up with a distracted manner.

  “Oh. Hi. Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  “It’s the dark coat. It can be good camouflage when I need it. Lets me sneak around town ninja-style without attracting attention.”

  “Hmm. Seems to be an epidemic of that around here,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important.” He shouldered his leather messenger bag and walked toward her, and that taffy ache stretched tighter. “You keep late hours.”

  “That’s funny. I was about to say the same about you. I didn’t realize brilliant architects had to burn the midnight oil too.”

  He laughed roughly and the sound seemed to slide down her nerve endings like the barbs of a feather. “I can’t answer for the brilliant architects. I know the rest of us do, if we want to be able to afford that oil to keep the lights on.”

  She smiled, amused at his attempt at humility. She had heard enough about his career to know which category most of his peers would fit Jackson Lange into. And if they happened to give out prizes for the sexiest among them, he was certain to win that too, especially right now with his wavy hair rumpled and that appealing evening shadow just begging for a woman to slide
her fingers across…

  Not this woman, of course.

  “What are you doing out so late?”

  “Book club meeting. And I use the term loosely.”

  “Which term? Book club or meeting?”

  “Either. Both. Tonight it was mostly a gossipfest.”

  “Sounds ominous. I’m glad I was safely tucked away here working.”

  “My friend Evie is getting married. That’s an exciting bit of news. She’s marrying Brodie Thorne. Did you know him?”

  “He was a few years behind me in school, I think. Didn’t he ski jump or something?”

  “That’s the one. They’re getting married in March.” She paused. “His daughter was Layla’s best friend. She was injured in the same car accident, and Evie has been helping her heal.”

  He didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and she wondered why she was blabbering on about people he didn’t know and likely didn’t give a damn about. Probably because she couldn’t seem to fight this little hitch in her breathing, the hard pulse of her heartbeat.

  “Well, have a good night,” she said, and turned to continue on her way.

  “Wait. Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m not far, in the little lot behind the bike shop.” She really didn’t think spending more time with Jack Lange was a great idea right now, with her defenses sagging from exhaustion—especially when he looked so dangerously irresistible.

  “Well, there you go. I’m in the same lot.”

  Naturally. She should have expected that, since many of the downtown business owners parked there and instructed their employees to do the same, to leave room for customers in the closer parking spaces. What else could she do but shrug and walk beside him as he headed toward the lot?

  They walked in silence for a few moments, and she tried not to notice the heat of him, which drew her on the wintry night as a fire in a fifty-gallon drum attracted hobos. She did her best to focus on the snowy sidewalk to avoid falling on her face in front of him.