Wanted--The Perfect Mom

by T. R. McClure

  Louise slipped a raisin-filled cookie from under the towel and dropped it into a treat bag. Pushing the coffee and cookie across the counter, she took the five-dollar bill from Moose with a smile. “I had fun last week, Rob.”

  The big man’s eyes were glued to her face. “Even getting caught in the rain?”

  Louise batted her blue eyes at the bashful man in front of her. “Especially getting caught in the rain.”

  Moose blushed. “The fair’s over. What else would you like to do?”

  Louise placed the change in the officer’s hand, holding on to his fingers a split second longer than necessary. “Well, the amusement park is serving a spaghetti dinner on Wednesday. Why don’t we check it out and then walk around the park?”

  Moose pulled his hand away in slow motion and stuffed his change in his pocket. “I’d like that. Can I pick you up at six?” He backed toward the door.

  “Watch the—”

  Moose backed into the display table, and two bags of coffee beans bounced onto the floor.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” His face fell.

  Holly picked up the bags. “No problem, Moose. They’re not breakable, and call me Holly.” She replaced the beans as Moose, with a last look and a smile for Louise, backed out the door.

  “Louise—”

  Elbows on the counter and chin propped in her hands, Louise stared out the window as the officer crossed the wet street and climbed into the police truck. “Hmm?”

  “His name is Rob?”

  “Robert.” She slowly straightened. “What? You think you’re the only one who likes a man in uniform?”

  “My goodness, Weaz, the man makes two of you, no, probably three of you.”

  Louise waggled a forefinger in the air. “Don’t worry, Holly, I’ve got him wrapped around my little—” she stared at her hand before dropping the second digit and waving her pinkie “—finger.”

  “And he’s younger than you. Mac said he just got out of the academy. There’s probably a law against you cradle-robbing the poor guy.”

  Louise sashayed to the window and turned, hands on hips, head tilted. “He’s over twenty-one and well versed in the law. And who are you to talk? You spent all last week with the handsome chief of police, so why begrudge me a little fun, hmm? At least I’m not analyzing things to death. You’re not open to possibilities. Once your mind is made up there’s no changing it.”

  “You don’t understand.” Holly settled onto the stool, Mac’s last words uppermost in her mind.

  Louise grabbed a bar towel and wiped an already clean counter. “Take ice cream, for instance.”

  Holly rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, waiting for her friend to make her point.

  “I had a roommate once who said we could microwave ice cream. I told her she was crazy because who would think of microwaving ice cream.” She squinted and shrugged her shoulders. “Ice cream melts, right? So one night we’re digging into this half gallon of butter pecan and it’s hard as a rock. So she sticks the carton in the microwave and I about had a heart attack.”

  Leaning against the wall, Holly hooked her feet on the rungs of the stool. “Get to the point, Weaz.”

  Louise held up her hands, palms out. “That is my point. I had never considered microwaving ice cream because I thought it would melt. But my roommate did it for about fifteen seconds and it was perfect dipping consistency, soft and creamy.” She licked her lips. “You need to be open to new possibilities, Holly, things you may never even have considered in the past.”

  “Like you and Moose.”

  “Like me and Rob.” Louise took her time folding the towel. “I’ve been a widow for almost three years, Holly, and away from nursing just as long. You think I’m not afraid to start living again?” She laid the towel next to the cash register and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I’m scared to death, but I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.”

  Holly nodded. So what if Louise and Moose Williams dated? They were certainly an odd couple, but Holly was no expert in the realm of romance.

  Did her friend’s ice cream analogy apply to her? Had she closed her mind to the possibility of a relationship with Mac because he had a child?

  * * *

  THE RAIN CONTINUED until late Tuesday night. Wednesday morning Holly walked to work through a dense fog. Cooled by the thunderstorm, the air felt damp and fresh.

  Katherine King showed up around eight, this time wearing a pale blue linen shift with matching jacket. Pearl studs graced her ears. Even though Holly knew she wasn’t Mac’s wife, the sight of her always brought Anne to mind. The woman requested her usual nonfat cappuccino, extra hot, and settled into one of the plush chairs, her laptop on a corner of the table.

  Wednesdays were typically slow. With everything caught up, Holly wandered around the shop, wiping already clean tables and rearranging her cup display. The bell over the door jangled and Wendy Valentine walked in carrying her ever-present briefcase. “Hi, Wendy.”

  “Hi, Holly.” Wendy approached Katherine and shook her hand. “Ms. King, nice to see you again.” She glanced over her shoulder and said, “Could I have a nonfat vanilla latte?”

  “Sure.” Holly nodded, surprised Wendy knew the visitor. This threw a whole new slant on things. So much for Louise’s speculation she was a country and western singer looking for a getaway home in the foothills of the Alleghenies. She made Wendy’s drink and carried it over to the table. Katherine smiled at her. “Wendy tells me you just opened this spring.”

  Holly smiled and smoothed the front of her apron. In an attempt to hide the milk splash, she flattened her hand over her middle. She couldn’t imagine these two women ever needing to cover a splotch. “Yes, we opened in May. I was in the air force for ten years and decided to return home and try something different.”

  Katherine nodded. “Well, you’ve done a lovely job. The coffee is great and the atmosphere is welcoming, which is what most people look for in a coffee shop. About the only difference between your place and the bigger cities is your uniform, or lack of one, I should say.” She had a knowing glint in her eye. “I suspect that might have something to do with the ten years in the military.”

  Holly grinned, surprised at the woman’s astuteness. She was beautiful and smart. “I guess that’s a hang-up of mine.”

  “No matter.” The woman sipped her cappuccino. “Your espresso creations speak for themselves.”

  “She’s right.” Wendy pulled a sheaf of paper from her briefcase and handed it to Katherine. “Ms. King is a recruiter, Holly. She searches for on-air talent for television affiliates all over the United States.” Wendy pursed her lips. “You probably think I’m too young, don’t you?”

  Holly crossed her arms. “I was eighteen when I left home, Wendy. I don’t think you’re too young at all, in fact, the sooner the better.”

  “I agree completely.” Katherine nodded as her gaze traveled from Wendy’s taupe pumps to her shiny black hair. “You’re at the perfect age to make a big move, although you’ve been rather limited in your exposure here.” She tapped a gold pen against her lips. “No entanglements to distract you, right, Wendy?”

  Wendy laughed nervously. “I don’t think so.”

  “Because that’s what it takes in this business. No men, no kids, not even a pet. Especially a dog. Your entire focus should be on your career.” She tilted her head at Holly. “You’re a businesswoman, Ms. Hoffman. Don’t you agree?”

  Katherine wore an expensive watch on her left wrist and a pearl ring on her right hand. No wedding band. “Focus. Definitely. I’ll leave you two to your business. Let me know if you need anything.”

  The woman was certainly gracious, the picture of Southern manners. Holly looked down at her T-shirt. She had the black one on today, which clashed with the brown-and-yellow apron. Maybe her stubbo
rnness was getting in the way of her business savvy. Maybe she should visit Cheri and see if she still had those polo shirts. Heading toward the kitchen to unload the dishwasher, she saw Pierre pass the window. She veered back to the counter.

  “Holly, bonjour. How is business today?”

  “Wednesday is my slow day, Pierre. But that’s okay for a change. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Pierre swung a lock of dark hair out of his eyes as he made a face. “American coffee? Surely, you jest.”

  Holly propped her hands on her hips. “Don’t knock my coffee until you’ve tried it, Frenchman.”

  Pierre held up his hands, palms forward. “I’m sure your coffee is good, but today I must have a double shot of espresso. I have so much work I will be here until midnight. My wife no longer knows what I look like.”

  Holly laughed as she reached for a demitasse cup and saucer. She drew the double shot and set the steaming brew in front of her neighbor. “I don’t know if this will get you to midnight. You may have to come back.”

  Pierre closed his eyes and breathed in the vapors rising from the cup. “Ahh, I needed this. I can almost pretend I am at a sidewalk café in Paris.” His eyes flew open. “I will bring you a collection of French songs. The illusion will be complete.”

  “When was the last time you were home, Pierre? Are your parents in France?” Holly leaned on the counter, wondering how he’d married an American and ended up in central Pennsylvania.

  Pierre slurped from the small cup. “Jessie and I visited my family last summer. They live just across the border from Italy.” He sipped again. “However, Jessie got an offer from a firm in Washington, DC. As soon as she completes her doctorate, we will be moving, so no going home this year. And if I leave, I have to close the store. I don’t know what to do.”

  “You can’t close your business. People rely on you. Why don’t you hire someone to help?” Holly glanced out the window. The fog had finally burned off and the summer sun shone on the red-and-white petunias in the bank parking lot. As usual, traffic was light.

  Pierre upended his cup and his gaze flicked to the espresso machine. He held out the cup and saucer. “I don’t know who to ask. Who else can fix computers?”

  Holly set the cup on the tray and drew another double shot. “Matt McClain just got laid off from the electronics factory. His wife’s been doing some baking for Sue, but they’ve got four kids. Maybe he could help.”

  Pierre took the cup and saucer and started toward the door. “I will talk to Sue. Thank you for the suggestion.” He lifted the demitasse cup in the air as he backed out the door. “And I will return this later. Au revoir, mon amie.”

  Holly waved before heading toward the kitchen. She pulled open the dishwasher. Clouds of steam rose and she leaned against the freezer, waiting for the dishes to cool. Pulling out a rack of coffee mugs, she shoved through the kitchen door.

  Rose came in, a big smile on her face. Outside, Erma was settling Riley onto the bench just under the window and wagging a finger under her nose.

  “What’s going on?”

  Rose shook her head. “I’m sworn to secrecy, but I can keep an eye on things while you find out about Riley’s surprise.” She pointed at Holly’s apron. “You might want to leave that in here.”

  Holly hung her apron on the hook and passed Rose and Erma as they headed toward the coffee. She pushed through the door and froze. “I don’t believe it.”

  Riley’s face was split with a wide grin. “I got a puppy, Holly.” She held a pink camouflage leash hooked to a matching collar, which circled the neck of a chubby black puppy.

  Holly eased onto the bench and put an arm around Riley. “I thought you weren’t allowed to have a dog.”

  “Daddy said since I’m living up here now he figured we could get a dog.”

  “You’re staying here?”

  Riley nodded. “We signed up for first grade. My teacher is Miss Norton.” She set the squirming dog on the bench between them.

  Holly’s heart fell. At one point she would have expected Mac to mention his decision, but ever since the encounter with the touch-me-not he’d been distant. She shouldn’t be surprised. Mac didn’t want Holly forming a close relationship with his daughter. Holly wasn’t mom material. Maybe Riley hadn’t gotten a new puppy just because she was staying in Bear Meadows. Maybe Mac had found a suitable mother. She pushed the troubling thought to the back of her mind. “What’s her name?”

  “Miss Molly.”

  “That’s a good name.” Holly ran a finger across the dog’s shiny, soft fur. “How did you decide on her name?”

  “Remember, Good Golly Miss Molly was the name of Twister’s friend at the fair. I figured that was a good name for a dog, too.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  Rose and Erma came out onto the porch with their coffees. Rose patted Holly on the shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I have a houseful for dinner tonight. I need to go home to get things started. And Erma was wondering if Riley could stay here with you for an hour.”

  Holly raised her eyebrows. “No, I don’t mind. I don’t expect to be busy. What about the puppy?”

  “I’ll take Miss Molly home and put her in the crate. You be good, Riley.” Erma gave Holly a speculative look. “By the way, how did you persuade Riley to give up her quilt?”

  Holly shrugged. “It was her idea.”

  Erma nodded. “If you say so.” She reached for the puppy’s leash. “Come along, Miss Molly.” Erma and Rose walked down the boardwalk, the puppy trotting alongside.

  Babysitting again, Holly thought. Mac won’t be happy.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HOLLY SETTLED RILEY on the couch with an activity book and a box of crayons.

  Washing her hands, she put on her apron and finished setting the clean mugs on top of the espresso machine. Passing through the kitchen, she noticed a missed phone call from Carolyn.

  “What’s up, sis?”

  “Freddy came down with the flu, Mom’s got a full house and Sonny’s on a job. Will you be terribly upset if I don’t come in today? I don’t know what else to do.”

  Holly glanced through the small window in the kitchen door. Wendy and Katherine had left hours ago. Mac would pick up Riley within the hour. “Today’s Wednesday. I shouldn’t be busy. You take care of little Freddy.”

  “Thanks, honey. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Holly put down the phone and wandered back into the store. She couldn’t call Louise. Her best friend was spending the afternoon getting ready for her big date with Officer Williams.

  A white van pulled into a parking space right in front of The Wildflower. Immediately all four doors opened. “Uh-oh.” A man and woman got out of the front and unloaded the rest of the vehicle. By the time they entered the shop, the family was comprised of two parents, two grandparents, two teenagers and a toddler. The faces of the parents were tense and for a minute, Holly felt sorry for them. “What can I do for you folks?”

  After staring at the menu board, the mother shifted the baby to her other hip and wrinkled her brow. “Do you serve meals here?”

  Although Holly knew she served nothing but drinks and pastries she had the strangest urge to double check her menu board. Four adults had stared at it for five minutes and the woman had still asked if she served meals. Holly nodded toward the pastry case. “The only food available is in the case. If you’re looking for a meal there’s a fast-food place about two miles down the road.”

  The husband’s eyes lit up and he ran a hand over his smooth pate. “Why don’t we do that, just this once? We’re on vacation, after all.”

  The woman turned cold eyes on her husband. “I told you we are not feeding the children fast food. I won’t be responsible for any clogged arteries they have at sixty.”

&
nbsp; Holly didn’t want to remind her it was possible she wouldn’t be around to see the clogged arteries at sixty but she bit her tongue as the four adults debated their options. The two teenagers disappeared into the alcove and Holly heard a pile of magazines slide off the shelf and onto the floor. “If you’re looking for a more substantial meal, you’ll find restaurants just off the interstate about twenty miles in either direction.”

  She looked at the toddler, who stared back with a frown on her chubby face. When Holly gave her a smile, the girl broke into a loud wail.

  The mother jerked her head around, and she beamed the cold stare at Holly that just minutes before had been boring into her husband’s skull. “What did you do?”

  Holly’s mouth dropped open. The blood rushed to her cheeks. “What did I—” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Riley pick up her coloring book and crayons and move to a table in the corner. She couldn’t blame the girl for wanting to move farther from the stressed-out mother. She would’ve joined her if she could.

  The grandmother handed a plastic lidded cup to Holly with an apologetic smile. “Could you put some whole milk in this, please?” She elbowed her husband. “Jack, get the twins back in the car. I’ll get some cookies to hold everybody.”

  “Mother—” The wife’s eyes flew wide in shock. “What about the sugar content?”

  The grandfather, a tall man with fine gray hair, finally spoke up. “Ah, it won’t kill ’em. You two load the kids back in the car and we’ll be right out.”

  By the time the parents had shepherded their children back into the van, the grandparents had bought a dozen raisin-filled cookies, a dozen sugar cookies, six bottles of apple juice and two cups of coffee.

  The grandmother perused the book shelves. “Are these books for sale?”

  Holly rang up the food. “All the paperbacks are a dollar.”

  “Then charge me for two, please. I’m sure I’ll find something.” She pulled a book off the shelf and flipped it over to read the back cover.