Wanted--The Perfect Mom

by T. R. McClure

  Holly caught Megan’s eye. “That woman makes coffee nervous.”

  After the initial morning flurry, business slowed. The same four teenagers came in around midafternoon and huddled in the alcove, the girls poring over fashion magazines. Skinny Smith stopped in for a bag of fair trade coffee beans and Holly got a delivery of tea bags.

  Tom Johnson stopped over in the late afternoon. “How’s business?”

  Holly finished making iced tea and approached the bank president. “Business is good, Tom. Is this the first you’ve been in?” Although Holly had needed minimal loans thanks to her savings and the loan from her parents, she had worked with the bank on short-term advances for supplies. Tom didn’t need to know with the onset of summer weather that business had slowed significantly. “Would you like an iced tea to go? It’s on the house.”

  “Thanks, Holly. Yes, an iced tea for the road and my wife wanted me to pick up some of your special blend beans.”

  Holly pulled a bag from the shelf and prepared his drink. She nodded toward the alcove. “I think your son is here.”

  “Ethan?” Tom leaned away from the counter as he looked at the teens. “Kids that age don’t want to be seen with their parents. But thanks for the heads-up. At least I know where he’s hanging out these days.”

  Holly set the tea and beans on the counter. “They’re quiet, I will say that. I hope your wife likes this blend. If not, tell her to come in and she can sample some different ones.”

  “Thanks, Holly, I will.” Tom tipped his head. “And, by the way—” he lowered his voice “—you need a loan, my door’s always open.” As the bank president approached the door, a huge man filled the entrance.

  Officer Williams practically blocked out the sun.

  Holly nodded at the big man as he strolled up to the counter. “Hi, Moose, what can I get for you?”

  “One coffee with cream and sugar, to go, please, ma’am.” Holly grabbed a cup and stuck it under the coffee spout. As he waited, Moose’s head was rotating like a searchlight, taking in everything and everyone.

  “Your coffee’s on the house.”

  Moose pulled a wallet out of his pocket. “No, thank you, ma’am. Chief said you would try to give me coffee but we’re not allowed to take gifts.” He laid the money by the register, picked up the cup and walked away.

  The teens gathered their belongings and the girls waved goodbye to Holly as they left. She smiled and prepared to close.

  Just as she turned off the lights, except the one over the counter, she received a text from her mother, begging her to bring coffee to the farm.

  Holly grabbed a pound of breakfast roast and locked the door behind her. She walked home in the dusk, got in her car and drove out to the farm.

  Her mother met her at the door.

  “Any word?” Holly handed her mother the pound of coffee.

  “Not yet. Should be anytime now.” Rose kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for bringing this out. I don’t know how those two function without making coffee in the morning.” She set the coffee on the counter next to the coffeemaker.

  Holly smiled. “Do you need me to do anything for the people in the Sunflower room? I left muffins out for them this morning.”

  “They’re pretty self-sufficient. They’re visiting the Belleville auction tomorrow. They’ll leave early.”

  Holly tilted her head toward the parking area. “Whose car?”

  “Erma and her granddaughter came out to see the horses.”

  Holly stood at the kitchen door and stared up the lane, thinking of Riley and Mac at the fireworks. “I think I’ll go and say hello. Want to come along?” She opened the fridge and grabbed some carrots.

  “Sure.” Her mother turned off the kitchen light and followed her out.

  They walked up the lane and rounded the barn, where they found all five grandchildren plus Riley perched on the wooden fence rails. Erma stood protectively behind Riley.

  Holly handed each child a long, orange carrot. When she came to Riley she paused. “Riley, do you know how to hold your hand when you feed the horses?”

  “I remember. Grandpap taught me.” She held her hand out flat to demonstrate, then offered the treat to the cream-colored gelding, whose lips gathered the carrot gingerly from Riley’s outstretched palm.

  Holly ran her fingers through the coffee-colored mane. “Whose pony is this anyway? He’s gorgeous.”

  “He’s mine, Holly,” Riley said. “His name’s Frosty.”

  Holly raised an eyebrow. “He is?” She realized this was the first time Riley had used her name. With a guilty start, she realized the same could be said for her. She had become accustomed to calling Mac’s daughter kid. Maybe they had reached a compromise.

  “Frosty is Riley’s pony,” Erma said. “Riley’s mother had the mother to this horse. She bred her mare and kept the colt. He was intended to be Riley’s.”

  “He’s gorgeous.” Shocked at the revelation, Holly studied the beautiful animal. From head to rump, his conformation was excellent, and if his demeanor at the rail was any indication, his attitude was good, too. “I gather she doesn’t ride him. Does anybody?”

  Erma shook her head. One hand smoothed over Riley’s ever-present ponytail. “Anne never finished the training. Mac’s so afraid of Riley having an accident he doesn’t want to have the animal trained.”

  “What a waste.” Holly moved up behind Riley, who stood on the second railing running her hand down the pony’s face. “He seems gentle enough.”

  “Grandpap used to take me with him, but since we moved here I don’t ride anymore.”

  “Do you remember riding with your mother?” Doing some quick mental calculations, Holly figured Riley would have been two when her mother died. How could she remember?

  Riley’s face lit up. “I remember bouncing and Mommy laughing.”

  “He’s a nice pony, Riley.”

  “I wish I could ride him.” She laid her cheek against the pony’s muzzle. Frosty stood motionless as if he enjoyed the connection with his owner.

  Holly shot a look at Erma, who raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment of Holly’s own thoughts. “Maybe someday your dad will change his mind.”

  “Maybe.” The little girl had withdrawn with the talk about her mother and the pony. Holly couldn’t blame her. The topic was a lot for a child to think about.

  “Did you ride Twister yet, Aunt Holly?” Rosalyn stood at her other side, her green eyes hopeful.

  Holly placed an arm over the girl’s shoulders. “Not yet. But I will. I promise.”

  An unfamiliar warmth spread through Holly at the thought of teaching her niece to ride, of sharing a love of horses. At the same time she wished she could make the same offer to Riley. But the business was her priority. She had expanded her hours, and since she still couldn’t pay any staff, she was the only person available to run the place. She needed to be careful making promises she might not be able to keep.

  * * *

  WEDNESDAY MORNING MAC stopped by as usual. Sitting on the stool at the end of the counter, coffee in hand, Mac caught a whiff of Holly’s scent as she whooshed by. “You know, you have this curious combination of coffee-and-vanilla scent. You should market that. It wakes a guy up in the morning.”

  With an uplifted eyebrow, Holly disappeared into the kitchen, only to reappear with two containers of milk. “Coffee, vanilla and just a drop of dish detergent. Yes, I’m sure the combination is extremely appealing.”

  Mac took the milk from her and leaned down to put them away in the lower refrigerator. “Just a thought. You could sell eau de coffeehouse on the side. Bring in more revenue.”

  Holly knelt by the pastry case and pushed open the sliding glass door. “If I thought that would work, I’d do it. I knew business would slow as the days got hotter, but I didn�
�t expect this. I even added flavored Frosty Coffees to my menu.”

  “I’ll have to try one.” He held up his cup. “Not in the morning, though.”

  Holly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. It was growing out, the curls brushing her cheeks. He pulled a bill from his wallet.

  “Mac. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “I appreciate the offer but I really prefer to pay.” Besides, she needed the money.

  “There’s no gray area with you, is there? It’s black or white, all-or-nothing.” Holly lifted two covered plates from the case and set them on the counter.

  “Now who’s doing the psychoanalyzing?” He stuck his wallet back in his pocket. “Keep the change.” He couldn’t figure out how paying for his morning coffee said he had no gray area...whatever that meant.

  “Speaking of Frosty Coffees, I ran into your mom and Riley at the farm yesterday.”

  Mac rubbed a hand over his face. Maybe he wasn’t awake yet, but he couldn’t make the connection between Holly’s new coffee drink and his family. “Did your sister-in-law have her baby?”

  Lifting the covering from a plate of peanut butter no bakes, Holly smiled. “She had a little girl, born five minutes before midnight. At least she only has two older brothers, instead of three, like me.”

  “You didn’t turn out so bad.”

  “No, I guess not.” Holly put the plates back in the case. “Anyway, I met Frosty. Why didn’t you tell me you were boarding her horse at the farm? I could help her handle him.”

  A sudden chill gripped Mac. How could he explain to Holly, a woman who could ride anything, why he didn’t want Riley on the horse? Across the street, petunias bloomed in riotous color at the base of the flagpole in the bank parking lot. “We’re just boarding the horse because Riley refused to sell him. But the animal hasn’t been fully trained, so please don’t encourage her.” He reached for his cup and stuck it under the coffee tap. Watching the rich liquid fill the cup, he felt Holly’s eyes on him. He knew she would challenge him, but no way was he letting his five-almost-six-year-old daughter ride an untrained horse. Riding was dangerous enough. And seeing the horse always reminded him of Anne and his failure.

  When Holly spoke, her voice was soft and persuasive. “Your mother told me Anne bred him for Riley. Why did you move the horse north if you had no intention of using him?”

  “My in-laws insisted.” Mac rubbed his forehead and fit the top on his cup.

  “But they own a horse farm.”

  “Tell me about it. I don’t understand their reasoning, but they said something about needing room for their breeding program. So they took care of moving the horse up here. I had nothing to do with it.”

  He met her eyes. “All water under the bridge, Holly. If Anne were still here she would have trained the horse, Riley would have taken lessons and someday ridden Frosty. But that’s not happening.”

  Her voice followed him as he rounded the counter. “Well, I don’t know if you remember, Mac, but I’m a pretty fair rider myself. I mean, I wasn’t on the cover of any magazines, but I did win some ribbons.”

  “Holly.” Mac smacked his cup on the counter with more force than he intended and was instantly sorry when Holly gasped and took a step back. “She’s my little girl. Horses are dangerous. I well remember your skill with animals—” he grimaced “—at any sport, for that matter.” He chose his next words carefully. “I also remember you rounding a barrel and flying six feet in the air and landing in the dirt. You didn’t move. You should have seen your parents’ faces.” He gave her a half smile. “I’ve got to run.”

  “You should have seen her face light up when she talked about riding with Anne.”

  Mac froze halfway to the door. A picture of Anne riding Black Coffee Morning holding two-year-old Riley in the saddle flashed into his mind. The two of them laughed with each bounce as the Welsh cob trotted around the arena. With his heart sinking, he turned and faced Holly. “What do you want me to say?”

  Holly held up her hands, palms out. “Do you care if I ride him?”

  She wouldn’t give up until she got the answer she wanted. “No.” He opened the door.

  “No you don’t care or no I can’t ride him?”

  Mac let the door slam shut behind him. Let her figure out what he meant. Standing on the porch staring at the vacant lot across the street, Mac wondered how Holly had forgotten their kiss on the mountain so quickly. And he didn’t like that any more than he liked the idea of someone other than Anne training Riley’s pony.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AFTER LUNCH CAROLYN strolled into the shop. “Busy?”

  Sprawled in one of the easy chairs, Holly put down the Western she’d been reading. “Swamped. I’m so busy I let the customers help themselves. More efficient that way.”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.” Carolyn perched on the arm of the chair opposite and fixed Holly with a speculative look. “Rosalyn said she asked you about riding lessons.”

  Sighing, Holly dropped her feet to the floor. “She did. I just haven’t had time to check out Twister. Since I extended our hours I’m here late every night. Sundays I’ve been setting up inventory and I’m definitely missing baked goods and bottled drinks and—”

  Carolyn held up her hand. “I get the picture.” She looked around the empty store. “Why don’t you run out now?”

  “Now? I can’t close now.”

  “I didn’t say close. I’ll watch the place.” She picked up Holly’s discarded book. “I can read Westerns as well as you, although I might look for a romance instead.”

  “What about the kids?” Holly fought the urge to jump to her feet and run out the door. Even she knew asking a working mother of three to watch the store while she went horseback riding wasn’t fair.

  “Scout camp, all three of them.”

  “What about Sonny?”

  “Builder’s conference in Harrisburg.”

  Excitement built in her chest. “You would do that for me?”

  “Well, actually, my motives are a bit selfish. The sooner you ride Twister the sooner you start lessons with my daughter.”

  Holly reached over and patted her sister-in-law’s knee. “Thank you, Carolyn. I’ve been here so much lately I dream espresso recipes.”

  “Of course, once school starts and I start teaching again I won’t be able to help out here but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Carolyn stood and wandered down the line of books. “Get along, there, little doggy.”

  With a laugh, Holly retrieved her purse from the kitchen and ran out the door. At the house, she grabbed a protein bar and water bottle and drove straight to the farm. The five horses crowded the fence when she pulled up to the horse barn.

  Eyeing the cream-colored gelding, she scratched behind his ear. “Maybe next time, fella.” Mac’s answer hadn’t been clear. In the meantime, she had her own horse to ride.

  Throwing a halter on Twister, she led him down the concrete center aisle of the barn. Hooking him up to the cross ties, she curried and brushed him. Cleaning his hooves, she ran a hand over his legs, checking for unfamiliar bumps or swellings. Satisfied he had no issues, she threw on a blanket and saddle.

  Holly led him out to the lane and stepped into the saddle. Leaning over and running her hand down the soft hairs of his neck, she allowed herself a minute to enjoy the feel of the horse beneath her. Once she was in the saddle, she wondered what had taken her so long.

  “Come on, Twister, let’s go for a walk.” She settled into the rolling gait as they walked up the lane toward the pond. Twister’s ears pricked forward and back, his head rotating as he looked around at the scenery. “Been a while, hasn’t it, fella?”

  Although the gelding was twenty-five, he was in good health. He dropped his head and they started up the slight incline toward the
ridge.

  Squirrels peered from around the trunks of leafy maples as they traversed the wide path. A grouse flushed out of a stand of rhododendron. Twister’s ears perked but otherwise the sudden appearance didn’t sway him. Holly patted his neck. “You’re a good boy, Twister.”

  When they reached the field on the ridge, she put Twister through his paces. Walk, trot and canter. Back. Sidestep. The horse was as responsive as ever. Before starting back down the mountain, they rested a moment. The creek below could barely be seen for the lush growth of the forest. To the west the sun sat poised on the blue tops of the distant mountains.

  Holly kicked her feet out of the stirrups and let her legs dangle, the reins looped around one finger. Sending out last rays of light and turning the sky glorious shades of orange and red, the sun disappeared below the horizon.

  Picking up the reins, she nudged Twister’s sides and he turned, already knowing without her asking that they were heading back down the hill. When they passed the spot where she and Mac had kissed, a curious tingling sensation swept through her body and for a moment she wondered if she had done the right thing, telling Mac the kiss was a mistake. Riding through the woods, she tried to allow the buzzing of the locusts to drown out the doubts crowding her brain. You think too much. Just let it be.

  But she couldn’t. And of course she was doing the right thing. Today was a perfect example. She couldn’t even find time to ride her horse thanks to the long hours spent at the coffee shop. How on earth would she meet Mac’s requirement of a wife?

  Leaving the woods, she slowed the horse to a walk so he would cool. The workout hadn’t been long, but Twister hadn’t done more in the past few years than roll around in the pasture. The activity would be good for him, just as having a purpose—a reason to keep looking forward—was good for people.

  * * *

  ROSALYN’S FIRST LESSON was Sunday after church.

  When Holly arrived at the farm, she parked near the lilac bushes. Grabbing the gift for the new arrival, she headed toward the house. Rose stood at the table, cutting up what was left of a roast. “Dinner is still warm, Holly. Do you want me to fix you a plate?”