One Fine Day (Hazel Green Book 1)

by Cindy Kirk

  “Ms. Grimsby.” Iris’s tone remained pleasant. “I’ve checked you into our William Jennings Bryan Suite.”

  Charlotte cocked her head, appearing to not recognize the name.

  Abby understood her confusion. She hadn’t known anything about the man until she’d moved to Hazel Green. “Following his defeat in the presidential election of 1900, Mr. Bryan became the most popular orator on the Chautauqua circuit. It’s rumored he spent the night in room 110 when the hotel first opened for business. Apparently, he continued to stay here whenever he was in the area.”

  Ignoring the impromptu history lesson, Charlotte studied the large metal key Iris pressed into her hand. She rolled it between her fingers. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages.”

  “Adds to the nostalgia in a way a key card never could.”

  Iris’s comment prompted a smile of approval from Abby and garnered a reluctant nod of agreement from their guest.

  “While I’m in town, I’m hoping to do business with Jocelyn Valentine. The milliner.” Charlotte added the last bit as if concerned they might not recognize the name.

  Abby had no idea how it worked on Michigan Avenue, but in Hazel Green, all the merchants not only knew but supported each other.

  “Her shop is super close, just down the block and around the corner.” Iris pointed west. “It takes less than two minutes to walk from our front door to hers.”

  “Jocelyn is extremely talented.” Abby thought of the gorgeous hats featured in the Mad Hatter’s decorative window. “If you’re looking for one-of-a-kind hats, either to feature in your shop or for personal use, she’s your gal.”

  “You’ve been most helpful.” The woman gestured with the hand holding the key. “I assume my room is down that hall.”

  “It is.” Abby rounded the stand and gestured to the leather overnight case at the woman’s feet. “May I help you with your bag?”

  Charlotte flicked the offer away with a swipe of her hand. Though she gave the appearance of a woman in a hurry, she didn’t immediately reach for the bag. Curiosity filled her eyes as her gaze lingered on the colonnade that separated the lobby of the hotel from the restaurant.

  “If you get hungry, you should consider Matilda’s. They serve fabulous farm-to-table food. Trust me. You can’t go wrong with anything on the menu.” Even if the restaurant hadn’t been under her roof, Abby would still have recommended the place. In Hazel Green, no one out-cooked Matilda Lovejoy.

  Charlotte’s expression turned thoughtful. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

  Once the woman disappeared down the hall, Abby shot Iris a questioning look. “Nine rooms filled?”

  “Your math skills are impressive.” Iris flashed a smile. “Room 201 is the only one still available. Since your fishing expedition was a success, that room is ready to book.”

  For a second, Abby wondered how Iris knew the outcome of her trip to the fishing bowl, then realized Nev must have told her on her way out the door. Her handful of employees was a tight-knit crew. But then, so were the townspeople. Kind and generous to a fault, they were what made Hazel Green special.

  Abby had arrived in this Northern Illinois community two years ago shortly after a winter storm had dropped two feet of snow. She’d been apprehensive and unsure whether she’d made the right decision in moving here from Springfield. It hadn’t taken long for her to realize she’d hit the jackpot.

  The second Abby had stepped through the front door of the hotel, she’d been greeted by Matilda, who’d been managing the hotel until the estate was settled. One touch from the woman’s hand was all it had taken. Abby remembered the moment vividly. It was as if someone had wrapped a warm, soft blanket around her and said, Welcome home, weary one, welcome home.

  From that second, the support she’d received from, well, everyone had been astonishing.

  Until then, Abby had felt as if she’d been on her own her entire life. Her father had jumped ship early in her childhood, and her mom had passed away from an aneurysm shortly after Abby graduated from college.

  Thanks to a stranger’s decision to leave everything to a great-niece she’d never met, Abby now had a forever home and more good friends than she could count.

  “I’m glad I’m not working this evening.”

  Abby blinked herself back to the present in time to see Iris jerk her head toward the hall.

  “She’s going to be a demanding one.”

  “I thought Charlotte was pleasant enough.” Abby kept her tone even, not wanting to get drawn into gossiping about a customer.

  She didn’t hold out much hope of Iris letting the subject drop. Since her husband’s death, Iris had turned into a glass-half-empty gal. Not that Abby blamed her. Seeing your husband shot in front of you could turn anyone bitter.

  “Did you see the way her lips pursed?” Iris pulled her bright-red lips into something that resembled a pout more than a pucker. “Like she’d just sucked on a lemon.”

  Abby thought of the pale band of skin she’d spotted encircling Charlotte’s left ring finger. Could she be recently separated? Divorced? Perhaps her husband had recently died. “What’s that saying? People are fighting battles every day that we know nothing about.”

  “True.” Iris gave a grudging nod. “You certainly were right on target last week with Katie and Tom.”

  Thinking about the couple brought heaviness to Abby’s heart. When the two had first arrived, they’d been taciturn and a bit abrupt. After a couple of days, she’d learned the heartbreaking truth.

  The two, who’d recently celebrated their third wedding anniversary, were in Hazel Green to plan Katie’s funeral. Simply recalling the conversation had tears stinging the backs of Abby’s eyes.

  While she couldn’t change Katie’s terminal cancer prognosis, Abby had done all she could to make their stay in Hazel Green as comfortable as possible.

  Iris unlocked one of the drawers behind the counter and pulled out her purse. “I don’t see how you do it. How you keep such a good attitude.”

  “I believe we offer more than warm beds to weary travelers. We offer joy, hope, love.”

  “I suppose.”

  The reluctant agreement had Abby fighting back a smile.

  “I’m heading out.” Iris touched her shoulder. “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

  “I’ll be fine.” You’d have thought Iris had asked for a huge favor instead of simply requesting the rest of the afternoon off to do some shopping.

  Abby walked with Iris to the front door with its glass insert. The name of the hotel was etched in a bold yet elegant font. Reaching around Iris, she opened the door. “And I’m not alone. Roselle is in the kitchen doing the prep work for dinner, and Eva Grace should be dropped off in the next hour or so.”

  “I can’t believe the munchkin is old enough to go to a birthday party.” Iris’s expression softened the way it always did when she spoke of Abby’s daughter.

  The teacher loved children but hadn’t been able to have kids of her own. Iris had mentioned once that she and her husband had been looking into adoption when he was killed.

  “It’s crazy to think she’ll be starting kindergarten next week.” When she’d had the embryo transfer, Abby hadn’t planned to raise a child. Now she couldn’t imagine her life without Eva Grace.

  She followed Iris out into the sunshine and gave her friend a playful shove. “What are you doing still hanging around here when there’s shopping to do?”

  Even after Iris disappeared around the corner, Abby remained on the sidewalk. There was no reason to hurry inside. If any of the guests called for assistance, her cell would ring. Lifting her face to the sun, Abby soaked in the energy that permeated the business district.

  Locals and tourists mingled on the sidewalks. Flags and banners, advertising various upcoming activities that would culminate in the Hazel Green Birthday Bash, hung from old-fashioned light posts. Instead of concrete sidewalks going all the way to the curbs flanking the cobblestone street, the city
had left openings that were now filled with blooming flowers.

  Abby narrowed her gaze on a black-and-white awning half a block away. The striped canopy made a bold statement over the front window of the antique shop. She swore it hadn’t been there last night when she and Eva Grace had made their nightly trek to the park.

  Glancing back, Abby studied the green-domed awning over the hotel’s front door. While it looked good with the red brick, she wondered whether she should consider something bigger. Or perhaps try a different color?

  “Mighty pretty day.”

  Abby recognized the deep, cheerful voice even before she turned. When the rotund man with the white beard standing before her wasn’t playing Santa Claus, he delivered the mail.

  “Hi, Frank. You’re looking chipper.”

  Frank Partridge rubbed a hand over his fluffy beard. “Got myself a haircut and a beard trim yesterday.”

  “I can see that.” Instead of reaching his waist, the beard stopped midchest.

  “Where’s the little one?”

  “At a birthday party.” Abby glanced at her watch. “She should be home any minute.”

  “Give her this.” Frank took a sucker that was peeking out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Abby.

  “Hey.” She shot him a teasing smile. “Don’t I get anything?”

  “This is for you.” Frank reached deep into the cloth bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a thick wad of mail.

  Abby’s smile froze when she saw what was at the top of the stack.

  She knew the envelope. Recognized the scrawl.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine. Thanks.” The concern in Frank’s voice had her adding a smile. “You have yourself a good day.”

  “That’s the plan.” Whistling between his teeth, he sauntered down the sidewalk.

  An unexpected tap on her shoulder had Abby whirling. The top envelope slipped from her grasp and fluttered to the ground.

  Before Abby could react, Matilda bent over, the sweeping folds of her paisley caftan, circa 1975, fluttering in the breeze. She scooped up the envelope in one easy motion.

  Abby held out her hand, but Matilda merely studied the writing. “Just like clockwork.”

  Impatience had Abby wanting to play snatch and grab. She reined in the impulse. “It’s from Jonah. I told you about the money he sends every month.”

  “You also mentioned the notes he includes for Eva Grace.” Matilda inclined her head. “Have you read any of them to her?”

  “I will. When she’s older.” Maybe, Abby added silently to herself.

  “What about the notes he sends you?”

  Abby blinked, resisting the urge to snap that anything Jonah had to say was of no consequence.

  When it mattered most, he hadn’t been there for her. Or for Eva Grace.

  That she would never forget.

  Chapter Two

  As Abby wiggled into the form-fitting silk dress, she thought of the awkward moment with Matilda earlier. She was grateful her friend had let the subject of the ridiculous note Jonah had written drop.

  Seriously, who above the age of ten wrote “Please read my letter. It’s important” on the back of an envelope?

  Important or not, his enclosed missive ended up in a large bag where the rest of his notes were “filed.” The ones addressed to Eva Grace went into a box. Both bag and box sat on the top shelf of her closet. The cash went in the bank.

  Despite Veronica’s threat to cut her off years ago, the money and letters had continued to arrive each month. The first time, Abby had been so angry she’d nearly ripped up the letters and cash and sent the pieces back to Jonah. Only the knowledge that it was his baby growing inside her had her hesitating.

  In the end, she’d put away the letters and kept the money.

  Pride, her mother once told her, doesn’t fill an empty stomach or put a roof over your baby’s head.

  Pregnant and broke, Abby hadn’t needed a crystal ball to know her life was about to get very hard.

  Anger surged. She would not give one more thought to Jonah Rollins. If giving money assuaged his conscience, so be it. But the income, however welcome, hadn’t been what she’d needed most during those difficult early years.

  Years when she did good to get at most five hours of sleep a night. When worry and fatigue had her hair falling out in clumps. When Eva Grace cried and screamed and pleaded each time the casts came off to be replaced by the dreaded braces. Braces that had to be worn twenty-three out of twenty-four hours.

  “Mommy? May I come in?”

  Eva Grace eased open the door to Abby’s bedroom and peered inside. She was a petite pixie with bright-blue eyes and a mass of golden curls. Her facial features were delicate, but Abby saw Jonah in the shape of her eyes and the single dimple in her left cheek.

  “Of course.”

  The words had barely left her lips when the little girl bounded into the room and flung her arms around Abby.

  “You look be-u-ti-ful.” Eva Grace rubbed her cheek against the silky fabric of her mother’s dress. “I wish I could go to the party tonight. I like parties.”

  “You had your party this afternoon,” Abby reminded her. “Celebrating Bristol’s birthday.”

  “We had cake.” Eva Grace’s face brightened. “And ice cream.”

  “There may be cake tonight.” Abby fingered her daughter’s soft curls. “But I’m practically positive there won’t be any ice cream.”

  “No ice cream?” Eva Grace leaned back, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. “Poor Mommy.”

  As Abby stroked her palm over the child’s hair, her heart swelled with love. How blessed she was to have this amazing girl as her daughter. “There may be petit fours. If there are, I’ll snag a couple for you.”

  Eva Grace’s eyes brightened. She stepped back and began to twirl again. “I like the ones with the little flowers.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Following her daughter’s example, Abby whirled, the skirt of her dress flaring out. But the air on her back told her she wasn’t quite as ready for the evening as she thought. She stopped and turned. “I need a favor from my favorite daughter.”

  Eva Grace giggled. “I’m your only daughter.”

  It was a familiar game, and the happiness on her child’s face arrowed straight to Abby’s heart. “Would you please zip me up, only daughter?”

  Eva Grace scrambled onto the dressing table chair, eager to help. Gazing at their reflections in the mirror, Abby admired the shiny pink shoes her daughter had worn to the party. It had only been within the past six months that pretty shoes had even been an option.

  She’d come so far. They’d come so far.

  Abby vividly recalled the worry-filled days in the NICU following her child’s birth and the surgery to repair the meningocele. Then the years of serial casting and bracing to deal with the clubfoot.

  She exhaled a ragged breath. Sometimes it was hard to believe those days were behind them.

  “All done.” Eva Grace singsonged the words and hopped down from the chair.

  With their hands clasped together, she and Eva Grace surveyed Abby’s reflection.

  Though Abby sometimes felt ancient because of all that had happened in the past five years, tonight wasn’t one of those times. Perhaps because the dress was cherry red, which was her favorite color. Or maybe because she’d gotten back to her “fighting” weight. For the past year she’d been getting up early to lift weights and sneak in a cardio workout before Eva Grace started her day.

  Abby might be starting her third decade, but she was in the best shape of her life.

  “You have brown hair.” Eva Grace cocked her head. “I don’t look like you.”

  This wasn’t the first time Eva Grace had pointed this out. She knew why she and her mom didn’t resemble each other. The tale of how a tiny fertilized seed had been planted in Abby and grown into Eva Grace was a favorite story.

  Lately, Eva Grace’s questions had been more focuse
d on her “daddy.” She didn’t seem interested in the mommy portion because, in her mind, she had a mommy. But a daddy, well, that was a mysterious creature.

  Though Abby never brought up Jonah, when Eva Grace asked, she kept her answers honest but vague.

  “You have light hair. I have dark hair.” Abby smiled. “Neither of us have red hair.”

  Abby flipped the sautoir necklace around so the tassel at the end hung not in the front but down the back. When doing her research on 1920s-era jewelry, Abby had discovered the decade had been one of experimentation. Cheaper pieces and colors that clashed were part of the fun. As were long strands like she wore tonight, which drew attention to the open back of her dress.

  “Bristol looks like her daddy.” Appearing bored, Eva Grace once again began to twirl, arms outstretched. “They both have red hair.”

  Abby sat on the bed and slipped on her shoes. “When I was a little girl, I wanted striped hair, like a zebra.”

  If she’d thought—hoped—to get her daughter off topic, the child’s next question confirmed that it hadn’t worked.

  “Did my daddy have hair like mine?” Eva Grace pinched a strand of hair between her finger and thumb and let it dangle.

  An image of Jonah as a little boy with a thick mop of blond curls flashed before her.

  “I seem to recall he did.” Abby kept her tone casual.

  Abby pressed her lips in a tight, thin line to keep from adding that she didn’t know him all that well. She’d never believed her old friend would leave her hanging in the wind. Or would have been willing to sacrifice his own child to keep his wife happy.

  “Did he—?”

  The doorbell’s ring stopped whatever question Eva Grace had been about to utter.

  “Nev-a-eh is here.” Eva Grace raced from the room to answer the door.

  Saved by the babysitter, Abby thought as sweet relief surged.

  As time went on, there would be more questions about Jonah. Specific questions. Eva Grace was a smart, curious girl and the only one of her friends without a father in the home.

  Abby needed to be prepared to answer those questions.

  But that wasn’t something to worry about on this beautiful late-August evening.