by Norah Wilson
“Now, may I have all the pre-kindergarten through grade one students come to the stage, please?”
Eden’s voice cut through the crowd, pulling April out of her trance. She tore her gaze from Scott’s face and looked around. How long had she been staring at him? Had anyone noticed? They were supposed to be keeping things on the down-low. And hello? The room was full of kids.
She glanced back at Scott to see he was talking to Titus as though he hadn’t missed a beat. Around her, people shuffled and chairs scritched on the floor as folks made way for the contestants. No one seemed to be paying the least attention to her. She let a sigh of relief escape.
Turning her attention back to the stage, she watched the little ones—most still holding their mothers’ hands—move to the front. Cameras flashed. One photographer in particular caught April’s attention. One of the few uncostumed people in the crowd was snapping pictures like crazy.
“That’s Glee Henderson.”
Scott’s voice so close to her ear made her jump. He’d obviously left his brother to Ocean.
“Glee?”
“Her real name’s Glenine. Everyone just calls her Glee. She’s a local reporter for the Harkness newspaper.”
How cool would it be for Sidney to get her picture in the paper? “Will she stay and take pictures of the older kids when they compete?”
“Absolutely. Adults too.”
As if on cue, while waiting for the next little kid to make her way to center stage, Glee turned and snapped a picture of Stephen, the waiter from the tea shop, who was looking totally awesome as Vampire Bill from True Blood.
April felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Ocean. “I’m going to go help Eden wrangle up the little ones.”
“Need some help?” April asked.
“I may need some security, actually.” She looked up at Titus. “Looks like a particularly tough looking zombie Bo Peep up there, don’t you think?”
“You’re right,” Titus eyed the tiny girl in her shepherd costume, carrying a wooden adult cane as her shepherd’s crook. “I don’t like the look of that staff she’s carrying. And something about that bloody pink ribbon in her hair just doesn’t feel right.”
“Protect me, Titus,” Ocean said, dramatically. Or as dramatically as a woman could through a bushy gray mustache.
“Isn’t that the deal?”
“Why, Mr. Standish, I believe it is.”
By the way the two of them were looking at each other, there was more to this casual exchange than met the eye. Titus confirmed it by kissing her, quickly, on the lips. He immediately lifted a finger to scratch over his own upper lip, clearly unused to mustache kisses.
Grinning, April watched Titus and Ocean head toward Eden.
No sooner had they left when Ember and Jace, dessert rush dealt with, came to stand with her and Scott.
“Nice shirt, dude,” Scott said to Jace.
He smiled. “Yeah, the puffy sleeves really make it, don’t they?”
Ember looked at April and rolled her eyes. “Boys, huh?”
April laughed.
“I’ll tell you what does work, though,” Jace said. “These brownies, April. Seriously, where did you get this recipe?”
“My own,” she answered.
“Please tell me you’ve copyrighted it?”
She laughed. “Would that I could. No matter how new or novel, recipes are very hard to copyright. A list of ingredients and instructions on how to make the product are considered functional and thus not copyrightable.”
“Too bad,” Jace said. “I guess you could always keep the recipe secret?”
She grinned. “Exactly.”
Jace’s eyes widened. “I’ve just had the best idea. April, you’ve got to anchor a booth at the market and start selling some of this stuff.”
“The downtown market?” Scott asked. “That’s full up, isn’t it? I know Duchess has had her name in for one of the outdoor stands for a couple of years now.”
“Ah, but there’s a new market in town,” Ember said. “Tell her to give us a call.”
“A new market?”
April listened as Jace explained about his plans for MacQueen Square. She’d known he bought it—Ember had been bouncing around these last couple days getting things set up for her new office, which was going into one of two larger suites that anchored the ends. Other tenants had made inquiries. But what was on Jace’s mind now, and what was becoming more and more interesting to April as he spoke, was his plans for the area at the back of the building.
“Prince Region Wholesale used to occupy the space. Now it’s just a large empty warehouse.”
“Perfect for a weekend market,” Scott nodded. “Damn, that’s a good idea.”
“We’ve already spoken to Mrs. Budaker,” Ember said. “She’s very keen to take a spot.”
“Mrs. Budaker?” Scott’s eyebrows rose. “Isn’t she already at the downtown market?”
“They’ve upped the rent,” Jace said, “and she’s not happy about it. I’m offering her free rent until January.”
“Two months,” Scott said. “That’s not bad. Especially considering the Christmas traffic.”
“Then a year’s lease after that, if she’s interested.”
“I’ve spoken to a couple of folks who have booths in Tynsdale,” Ember added. “Not necessarily offering the same deal as Mrs. Budaker, of course; she’d be a bit of a coup. If we can get her, others will follow. But even so, a lot of the merchants told me they’d open a stand down here in a heartbeat.”
Jace looked at April. “For you, April, I’d be thrilled to offer the same deal as Mrs. Budaker’s getting. You could bring a lot of interest to this new enterprise.”
Yes! she wanted to cry. Yes, I’ll take it. Yes, I’ll do it. For all of fifteen seconds. Then the old, cautious April Morgan—the one raising a kid on her own, trying to justify her work at the Standish farm—put the brakes on. Hard.
“It sounds great, but…” April shrugged. “If it were another time—”
“I think it’s the perfect thing for you,” Scott said. “And the perfect timing.”
She turned wide eyes on him “Scott, I don’t have the time. With work, and Sidney…”
“Don’t dismiss it out of hand, April. Think about it.”
“I am thinking about it. Sidney—”
“Yes, these past weeks have been busy, but planning for this event has been a big time suck,” Scott said. “It’s not always like this. And hey, you pulled off the party and still got everything else done. You could do this, April. I mean, if you want to.”
“But what about Sidney?” she said.
He smiled. “I seem to recall you telling me there’s a certain young lady who owes you a debt. Put her to work in the kitchen with you. We both know she loves cooking, and she’d love to do this with you. What better way to work off what she owes?”
That niggling I so want this! feeling surged again. But still…it all seemed so sudden, so big.
“You’d be doing us a favor,” Jace said. “I expect the place to fill up in a couple of weeks, and customers will follow. But we need some stable businesses to bring them back. That could be you, April.”
“You’ve no idea what a great cook you are,” Ember said. “Seriously.”
“I don’t know.” She looked at Scott.
“I do know,” he said firmly. “Trust me. You can do this. And I’ll help.” He raised his hands in a staving off manner. “Only as much as you let me. I’ve learned my lesson. But you can do this, April. And I know deep down inside, you want to.”
Of course he knew that. They’d talked about everything under the sun and stars during those late nights in Montreal. He knew what she’d hoped for when she’d been young enough to hope. This was smaller scale than the grand plans she’d had at sweet sixteen, but it was still…something. Still bringing her cooking to the world.
“And the winner of the most historically creative costume goes to…Sidney Morgan!
”
April looked up to see her daughter cross the stage to claim her prize—an orange bucket of candy with a blue ribbon attached. Whoa. She’d been so absorbed in the discussion, she’d totally missed that they’d awarded the prizes for the wee ones and moved on to the next age levels.
While applause—and a surprisingly piercing whistle from Danika—sounded, Sidney looked at April with sheer joy on her face. God, it had been so long since she’d smiled like that.
Maybe she could do it. With Sidney’s help and Scott’s support, maybe it was a real possibility.
Chapter 18
“SO, THIS is the man you’ve been talking about,” Scott said.
The young kids had long since left—including Sid, who’d gone up to the house with April—ceding the barn to the teenagers. Titus had just introduced him to David Hillman, one of the young bucks he’d hired to help spread straw on the berry fields.
“Yup. The hardest worker of the bunch,” Titus said.
Scott extended his hand and the young man shook it.
Strong grip.
“Hi, Scott. How’s it going?”
The perfect greeting. No Mr. Standish. Not in Harkness, where everyone knew everyone, at least peripherally. Now Arden would have rated a Mr. Standish, at least until his uncle swept the formalities away, but not Scott or Titus. There’d need to be serious seniority, multiple decades. Or the older party would have to be a teacher. Scott was still struggling with calling Mrs. Siliker Faye.
“Going great, David,” Scott said. “I asked Titus to introduce us because I wanted to sound you out about a little part-time work at the farm.”
“Titus mentioned it,” he said. “And yes, I’m very interested.”
“Did he tell you what the job entailed?”
Apparently he hadn’t, because Titus immediately leaped in to elaborate on what helping around the farm for a couple hours after school three days a week at ten bucks an hour translated into. Which was just as well. Titus had a better grip on the day-to-day stuff than Scott did.
David nodded his head after every reference, not just automatically, but really taking it in, assimilating. Never breaking eye contact with Titus. Never shifting or showing the least bit of discomfort at the prospect of any of the chores. Yeah, he’d do fine.
“So how about it? Apple picking is still going strong, and cider-making. Then we’ll need to sanitize under the trees. I think we can guarantee somewhere between ten and twelve hours a week until Christmas. Sound good?”
“Till Christmas? That should just about do it.”
Titus grinned. “Saving up for something special?”
“Yeah, I am.”
He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t have to. The glance he sent toward his pretty girlfriend, Sally McAvoy, currently standing by one of the tables, looking anxious in her Anne of Green Gables getup, told the story. She twisted the brim of her straw hat in her hands.
“There’s one stipulation,” Scott said.
David frowned. “What’s that?”
“Any day you’re too busy after school with your studies—if you have an exam or paper due the next day—that comes first.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Just let us know as soon as you can. Fair enough?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “That’s more than fair.”
“So, when can you start?”
“Heck, Monday, if you like.”
“Monday’s perfect.” Scott extended his hand again. “See you then.”
David shook Scott’s hand, then Titus’s. He walked right over to the girl with the straw hat and strawberry blond braids standing now at the edge of the dance floor. She threw her arms around him. As they stood there, the lights dimmed and a slow song started playing. With a cheer, the teens on the dance floor came together for the slow dance.
“You sure you know what you’re doing, bro?” Titus said, now that David was out of earshot. “That’s a lot of money going out. With April’s salary and the extra mouths being fed around here…”
“Extra mouths?” Scott cut him with a glare. “Don’t tell me you begrudge them being here? April’s salary comes out of mine, remember?”
Titus’s head shot back as though Scott had slugged him one. “Jesus, you know me better than that. I don’t begrudge April and Sidney anything.”
“Sorry.” Scott rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like shit for lighting into his brother. On the other hand, if Titus was going to step back and take a break, he needed to let go and allow Scott to handle things. “David’s wages will come out of the regular budget, but I’ve looked at the books. Ten hours a week for a couple of months won’t kill us. And from what I recall, this wouldn’t be the first time we hired a part-time person in the fall, over and above the pickers.”
“True, but that was when I had to shoulder more of the domestic stuff on top of the chores. Hell, more of everything, what with Dad’s depression.”
There it was, right out on the table. When Margaret Standish had gotten sick, Scott had taken off. Titus had stayed. He’d stayed through their mother’s illness, taking up the slack while Arden cared for her. And he’d continued to carry the load afterward when Uncle Arden got lost in his grief.
Some son Scott had been. Some brother. He’d failed them both.
“I’m sorry about that,” Scott said gruffly, past the lump of pain in his throat. “I should have been here. Should have done more—”
Titus raised his hands in a stopping gesture. “Christ, Scott, that’s not what I’m saying. Not why I brought it up. What I clumsily meant to say is that Dad’s feeling a lot better—he can do more. And now that we’ve hired April—which I agree is a good thing—that takes the domestic pressure off. As much as I like David, and as glad as I am to be helping with his promise ring fund, I’m just asking, do we need it right now? Can we afford it?”
Scott felt some of the tension ebb. “In a word, yes. Between me, Arden and David, the farm chores will get done, and the repair projects will too. As for the repairs, I’ve done the math. Between my free labor, fabricating some of the materials myself and sourcing the rest wholesale, I won’t break the bank. Okay?”
“Okay. You’re the boss. Literally.” Titus slapped him on the back and grinned. “Should be a fun couple of months.”
The music changed, segueing from one slow song to another, the final final last waltz. That too was a Standish tradition from not-so-far-back. Years ago, Titus had finally worked up the nerve to ask a girl to dance at the end of the night. Watching Titus stiffly turning slow circles around the dance floor with her in his arms, Scott could see he was going to need some time to relax into it. So, being the kind of brother he was, he’d queued up a second last song.
Ocean had doffed her mustache since winning in the adult, non-zombie category, snagging the coveted box of Ganong chocolates, and most important of all—bragging rights. She’d also tossed aside the powdered wig, and thankfully, her attempt at a Mark Twain accent. She smiled sweetly at Scott then wickedly at Titus as she sidled over.
“Hey Mr. Security Man, may I have this dance?”
“Are you talking to me?” Titus said in his best Robert De Niro imitation.
“Oh, that’s bad.” Ocean laughed. “Worse than my southern accent.” She grabbed his hand and led him away. Although “lee might not be the right word when his brother followed her so happily. Scott watched as they joined the other couples on the darkened dance floor. But unlike the other couples, there was no clumsiness or surfeit of teenage self-consciousness. Just effortless gliding, an easy belonging, an unmistakable tenderness...
“They make a striking couple.”
Scott turned to see Uncle Arden at his side. He’d lost the wolf ears somewhere along the way.
“They look happy,” Scott said. “Finally. Ocean’s had a crush on him for years.”
“More than a crush, I’d say. I saw the way she looked at him every Christmas when she came home. And the way he looked at her
when she wasn’t looking at him.” Arden chuckled.
“Been that obvious, has it?”
“Obvious enough.”
Crap. If Uncle Arden had picked up on that from a few glances at Christmas parties, how obvious were he and April being?
The last strains of the last last waltz came to an end and the lights came up blindingly. Ocean and Eden started herding people toward the door.
“Been a pretty good night, huh?” Arden said.
It had. “Sidney certainly had a ball.”
“She did.” Arden agreed. “I liked seeing her hanging around with her new friend.”
“Danika? She seems like a nice girl. Polite. Smart.”
They stepped back out of the way so kids could grab their coats from the pegs behind them.
“Faye’s having a great time tutoring them.”
“It’s not too much for her to handle both of them?”
“Not at all.” Arden bent to pick up a scarf a young lady had dropped and handed it to her.
“Thanks, Mr. Standish.”
“You’re welcome, Sarah.” He turned back to Scott. “Faye needed something to do. Something new. You know, son, a person just can’t grow old and wither away.”
“I’m really glad to hear you say that, Uncle Arden.”
“Well, I never thought I would again after you mother died. But you know, life keeps going on. I’ve figured that out.” He cleared his throat. “Faye has too.”
Scott glanced around. “Speaking of Faye, did she head home?”
“No. Last I saw she was loading dishes in the dishwasher up at the house.”
They’d used mostly disposable plates, but serving platters and bowls had come from the Standish kitchen.
Scott looked around the room, which was clearing out fast. “And where’s my pirate sister? Don’t tell me she cut out early?”
Arden sighed and shook his head.
Scott felt a shaft of anxiety. “What?”
The old man paused. “Ember was called away about fifteen minutes ago. An accident. Well, that’s what they’re calling it. There’s trouble over at the Farmingham place. Ember had to go patch the young fellow up.”
