His Winter Rose and Apple Blossom Bride

by Lois Richer

  And yet, it wasn’t Mick she’d met again.

  This was no boy, definitely not the teenage heartthrob she’d spent hours daydreaming about. Michael Masters was a grown man, with a daughter and responsibilities.

  He’d been married once, now he had a child.

  That alone was a good reason not to go with him for coffee. She’d already made two mistakes trying to achieve a relationship where she completely trusted her partner. One where her heart wouldn’t be at risk.

  Young Mick Masters had been anything but safe. Michael Masters the man would be no different.

  *

  “I don’t know how you do it, Mom.” Michael savored the last bite of apple pie his mother had saved for him. “You work a much longer day than I do yet you still manage to make a home-cooked dinner and entertain Tati when I can barely keep one foot in front of the other. Amazing.”

  “No, honey. It’s just years of practice. And owning a restaurant.” She chuckled as she picked up his plate, set it in her dishwasher. “Things will get easier for you, I promise. When you and your sisters were little your father and I were walking zombies. But we learned how to cope. You will, too.”

  “The difference is you had Dad. I sometimes wonder if Tati’s suffering without her mother.”

  “Has she said something?”

  “No. She seems fine at the daycare. But it’s hard to leave her there with strangers all day. Thanks.” He accepted the tea she handed him, watching out the window as Tati climbed the old slide and whizzed down it just as he and his sisters had done.

  “Tatiana is adjusting well. She has a stable home now, a daddy who loves her. That has to be better than gallivanting all over the globe with Carissa. Children need security. You’re providing that. Cut yourself some slack.”

  “I guess.” He mulled that over as he got up, dried the pots and pans she had washed, then resumed his seat. Tati was busy in the sandbox so he had a few minutes to talk. “I wanted to ask you about someone I met. A woman—tall, blond. She looks like a movie star or something. Her name is Ashley—”

  “Adams.” His mother nodded. “You should remember her. She used to live in the Bay. She was in my Bible class before her parents separated. Her mother moved away, but Ashley came back every summer to stay with her father, Regan Adams. Remember him? He died several years ago—a salesman who traveled a lot. Ashley’s a good friend of Piper Langley’s.”

  “Wow. Do you also know her shoe size?” He stared at her in admiration. “Nothing gets past you.”

  “Remember that,” she teased.

  “She was at the school today.”

  “Of course she was. I sent her there to talk to Jillian about showing her art slides.” His mother stored the last of the pots away. “Ashley used to work in a fancy gallery in Vancouver. She keeps a collection of slides from noteworthy work she’s handled. If what I’ve heard is correct, they’re perfect for Jillian to show to her students.”

  “A gallery?” He sat up straight. “You said ‘worked,’ not ‘works.’ She’s not there anymore?”

  “She was in an accident. She came to Cathcart House to stay with Piper and recuperate. I don’t know if she’s going back or not.” His mother gave him “the look.” “If you’d spoken to her, you could have asked her.”

  “I tried. If I’d known about the gallery gig, I might have tried harder.” He checked the backyard, saw Tati hovering by the fence. “Uh-oh, she’s restless, which can only mean trouble. I’d better go. Are you sure she didn’t ruin your tablecloth? That juice is a pain to get out.”

  “After surviving you three my linens are indestructible to childish spills. Besides, it wouldn’t matter a whit if she did,” his mother insisted. “I can buy another tablecloth. But that sweet child will only be four years old for a very short time.”

  “True. The question is whether I can last till five.” Michael rose, massaged the tense cords in his neck. “Thanks again for dinner. I appreciate not having to cook.”

  “Are you going to work tonight?” his mother asked. She tapped one knuckle on the window to get Tati’s attention, shook her head. Apparently Tati obeyed.

  “Tonight I have to check over some homework I stupidly assigned last week.” He groaned. “Teaching takes up so much time. I never imagined I’d be spending so many hours at it. It makes it hard to find time—” A squeal from outside drew his attention. Michael sighed as he went to investigate. “We’d better go. It’s almost bath time.”

  Teaching, Tati and trivialities—that’s what took up his time nowadays. Frustration ate at Michael as he fastened her into the car seat, but a pat on his cheek from her little hand tamped it down. He’d choose Tati over his silly dream every time.

  His mother waved them off while Tati chatted merrily about her friend Wanda at day care. Tales of Wanda filled the entire drive to the house he’d purchased a few short months ago. The place had seemed the right decision then, but on days like this he wondered about all his choices.

  Michael struggled to engage Tati in their nightly bubble war. Though she was up to her eyebrows in the iridescent globes and only too willing to douse him as well, she wasn’t entirely happy about something. He didn’t press. She wouldn’t tell him until she was good and ready anyway. At least he’d learned that much about her.

  His attention strayed too long. The bubble bottle slipped and it took ages to clean up the slippery mess. Another half hour to clean Tati off, get her into pajamas and dry her hair.

  But once she was tucked in bed, pressed against his shoulder as he read her a favorite story, Michael couldn’t begrudge her one second. This was worth everything.

  “Wanda says daddies and mommies are supposed to live together. Is that right, Daddy?”

  “That’s the way God planned it, sweetheart. But sometimes things don’t work out like that.”

  “Because my mommy is in heaven?”

  “Uh-huh.” He so did not want to get into this tonight.

  “Well, I don’t like it. I want a mommy to do things with me like Wanda has. Do you know her mommy made her a pretty dress for her birthday? I want to have a pretty dress, Daddy. One that’s white with frills and lots of ribbons. Just like Cinderella’s.”

  Tati wouldn’t last two minutes in frilly white, but Michael only smiled and nodded. “Very pretty, honey.”

  “Can I have a dress like that, Daddy?”

  He studied the picture she indicated, wondering what the right answer was.

  “Those dresses are for special occasions. Like Christmas and stuff. They’re not very good for finger painting, or for playing in Granny’s sandbox.”

  “I know.” She flipped through the pages until she found the one she wanted. “Can I have a dress like this for Christmas, Daddy?”

  He stared at Snow White’s layered organza perfection and wondered if children’s clothiers even made such a thing anymore.

  “Tell you what, Tati, we’ll have a look in the store when they get their Christmas clothes in. But that’s a long time away. You might change your mind. How about if we think about it till then?”

  “I guess.” She tilted her head back to study him. “Wanda says ‘We’ll think about it’ means her mommy won’t do it.”

  “I’m not Wanda’s mommy,” he told her wishing the four-year-old fount of wisdom his daughter played with would, just once, run out of answers. “We’ll both think about it. And when it gets nearer Christmas we’ll talk about it again. Okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy. I love you.” She reached up to encircle his neck with her arms and squeezed as tight as she could. “This much,” she grunted as she used all her strength to show him.

  Michael closed his eyes and breathed in as he wrapped his own arms around her tiny body. “I love you more, Tatiana,” he whispered.

  They outdid each other in hugs for a few minutes until he caught her yawning. She said her prayers then hugged him once more.

  “Goodnight, sweetie. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

>   She gave him one of her old lady looks. “Wanda says there are no bed bugs in Serenity Bay.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s this then?” He gently pinched her leg under the covers, grinned at her squeal. “You tell Wanda she better watch out.”

  “You’re silly, Daddy.”

  Michael leaned down, brushed his lips against her forehead. “I love you.”

  “G’night.” She yawned, then curled into a ball under the pink bedspread covered with ballerinas. “Tomorrow for dress-up I’m going to be a lifesaver,” she murmured just before her eyelids dropped closed.

  “You already are.” He flicked off the lamp so the nightlight shed its pale glow. He checked the window, made sure it was locked, cleared a path in case she got up in the night. Then Michael left the room, pulling the door almost closed, so he could hear if she called out.

  He reached out to get the monitor from the dining room table, realized he’d left it in his studio. Again.

  Michael unlocked the workroom door, pushed it open and flicked on the light. He paused for a moment, studying his work.

  His critical focus rested on the last two carvings he’d done. These faces were his best. It had taken more than four years to get comfortable with his own particular style, but it had been worth the effort and time he’d spent to perfect his craft. His carvings now were nothing like those from his New York days, ones his mockers had called kindling.

  He’d need another six or seven months to get enough of them to mount a showing in the city. Of course he had no idea how to go about something like that, but Ashley Adams might. Maybe that’s why God had sent her here, put her into his path—so he was one step closer to make his dream of working as a full-time carver come true.

  The telephone rang.

  He hurried to answer it, praying it wouldn’t wake Tati and regretting the intrusion, but happy to hear Piper Langley’s voice.

  “Hello, Piper. It’s nice to hear from you. I enjoyed the fireworks display you organized for Labor Day. You received high praise from my daughter, too.”

  He listened as she spoke, outlining a plan that, even for her, was big.

  “Sounds like fun,” he agreed when she’d finished describing her winter festival ideas.

  “I’m hoping I can persuade you to get more involved.”

  “Me? How?”

  “I’m using the history book of the area as a resource guide to organize some of the events. It was done several years ago and though we don’t have many trappers or woodsmen around anymore, I’m bringing in some people who can show folks what it was like.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work.”

  “Eventually we want to have dogsled races, trapper contests, the whole thing. For this first year, though, we’re counting on a few big names, maybe make some spectator events like snow sculptures and dogsled pulls for kids.”

  “Okay.” He still didn’t get how it involved him.

  “As a windup for the week of the festival, we plan to have a live theater event in the school auditorium on the last night.”

  “Piper, I can’t act worth a hoot. And when it comes to costumes—”

  “We need a set builder,” she interrupted. “For the play. There aren’t a lot of sets to be built and the hardest work will be painting them, for which I’ve already found volunteers. But we need someone to put them together. Jason and I thought that since you’re the shop teacher and already at the school, you might be able to help.”

  “Harmon McTaggert would be a lot better at it than me,” he muttered.

  “He’s willing to help you whenever he can, but a recent health scare has him taking things easy.”

  “Morley French?”

  “He’s organizing two of the events. And Steve Garner is working the publicity end.” She sounded apologetic. “I’ve exhausted my list, Michael. The only person I haven’t asked is you.”

  “It’s a great idea, Piper, and I’d really love to help.”

  “Great!”

  “But I’m going to have to refuse,” he added quickly, before she got started thanking him. “I’m sorry, I wish I could take it on but it’s just not possible.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Sorry, but yes.”

  “I see. I’m sorry about that. I’d really hoped to persuade you.” She sounded tired. “I was just telling Ashley about the bins you helped the kids put together for the recycling program. It’s a great project.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ashley. Her name kept coming up. In his mind’s eye he could see her, slim and elegant, her hair looking tousled and windblown around those big gray eyes, though it had probably taken a salon hours to create the effect.

  “Really, I wish I could do it, Piper. But with Tati to take care of and working at the school—I think I’ve bitten off just a little more than I can chew.”

  She laughed, a soft musical sound that carried across the wires.

  “Tati’s a sweetheart. One look from those big brown eyes and I’d be lost. I don’t know how you can ever say no to her.”

  “I can’t,” he admitted.

  They traded a few more words then Piper let him go, but not before asking him to dinner after church on Sunday.

  “Nothing big, just a few of our friends. Jason and I want everyone to meet Ashley.”

  “Oh, we’ve already met,” he told her. “Didn’t she tell you? She was going to call the cops on me.”

  When they hung up Michael was grinning.

  Let Ms. Ice explain that.

  Chapter Three

  “Everything for the winter festival is coming together so well. If I could just figure a way to get those sets built.”

  “You will.”

  Piper tossed her briefcase on a chair, flung off her shoes and smiled at Ashley.

  “Such faith. Thanks, pal.” She sniffed. “Something smells wonderful. I love it when you cook on Fridays. Jason says it’s like the kickoff to a great weekend.”

  Jason says this and Jason says that. During the month Ashley had been at Cathcart House, barely a sentence had left Piper’s lips that didn’t include her fiancé. Ashley felt a faint prick of envy for the couple. Theirs would be a wonderful marriage.

  “Shrimp cocktail for starters. Prime rib and roasted potatoes. Corn from the farmer’s marker. Coleslaw from the cabbage in your garden, and apple betty crumble for dessert. How does that sound?”

  “Like I should have brought another three guys.” Jason walked through the door, kissed Piper, then waved a hand. “Come on in, buddy. Hey, Ashley, I found Michael heading for his mother’s coffee shop and invited him to join us. Since he missed our Sunday get-together, I figured we owed him. Is that okay?”

  Like she could say no now, with him standing there, grinning at her.

  “Of course. The more the merrier.” Ashley sent a half smile in Michael’s direction then busied herself thickening the gravy. “It won’t take a minute to get everything on the table. I made some punch if anyone’s interested.”

  “I ask you, could I have found a better roommate than this?” Piper poured four glasses, handed them round, then walked out onto the deck with Jason, laughing over something that had happened that day.

  Ashley prayed Michael would follow, but God apparently had other plans. Michael leaned one hip against the end of the counter and took a sip of his drink.

  “Cranberries, raspberries and a bite,” he guessed, licking his lips. “Cinnamon and bitters?”

  She nodded.

  “For some reason the changing leaves always make me think of cinnamon. Is it too strong?”

  “It’s perfect. Like you.” He ignored her uplifted eyebrow. “I mean it. Look at you, after slaving all day in the kitchen your hair looks as if you’d spent the day at the spa. Your dress hasn’t got a spot of grease on it and as far as I can tell you haven’t broken a sweat.”

  She had to laugh.

  “It’s not exactly hard labor you know. All I did was cook a few things and set the table.”

/>   “To me that is hard labor. Mostly I hope my mother invites us for dinner so I don’t have to go through the agony of cooking. Tati even asks Wanda to invite her so she won’t have to eat it.”

  It was hard to tell if he was joking or serious. She began to dish up the meal. Without being asked, Michael carried each porcelain container to the table. When he saw her lift out the meat, he went to the door and called the other two.

  Jason helped Piper be seated. Michael winked at Ashley as he held her chair, then promptly sank down in the one closest to her.

  “Honey, do you want to say grace?” Piper asked, reaching out for Jason’s hand on one side of the table and Michael’s on the other.

  “Sure.” Jason held out his hand for Ashley’s, watched Michael take the other one, then bowed his head. “Thank you God for friends and food and your love. Bless us now we ask. Amen.”

  Jason released Ashley’s hand immediately but Michael held on so long she had to tug her fingers from his. He made a face.

  “Couldn’t you think of a longer prayer, Jason?” he asked.

  Piper and Jason chuckled. To hide her red cheeks, Ashley rose to retrieve the carving knife. As she handed it to Jason her gaze rested on Michael.

  “It’s very sharp,” she said clearly. “You’ll want to be careful it doesn’t slip and hurt someone.”

  Michael inclined his head. “She means someone like me,” he explained in a loud whisper.

  Ashley pretended to ignore him and concentrated on her meal, listening as Piper expounded on her winter festival plans.

  “Things are falling together so well. So far we’ve had a great response. It looks like we’ll have entries in every category. The trapper’s dinner has been taken over by two women who used to run a catering business, which is a huge relief.” She leaned back in her chair, her forehead wrinkled. “If it wasn’t for that play—”

  “Still nobody to build the sets, I’m guessing.” Michael sipped his water, looked at Jason. “How about you?”