Desire by Design (Silverweed Falls Book 1)

by Thea Dawson

  Desire by Design

  Thea Dawson

  Contents

  Free Offer

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  26. Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Other Books by Thea Dawson

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  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Sign up for a FREE copy of Doubts & Desires, a Silverweed Falls novella:

  www.theadawson.com/Doubts&Desires

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in a newspaper, television, radio or online review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Doubts & Desires

  by Thea Dawson

  Copyright © Thea Dawson 2017

  Published: 14 July, 2017

  Publisher: Aeroplane Media Press

  Cover Design by Paper and Sage

  Cover image: © konstantynov/Depositphotos.com

  ISBN-10: 0-9861064-2-9

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9861064-2-2

  1

  “Lily, slow down!”

  Holding ten-month-old Rowan in one arm and trying not to lose sight of Rosie, her three-year-old, Celia tried to keep up as her oldest daughter, ten-year-old Lily, pulled her by the hand through the crowded corridor.

  The hallway was packed with families there for the school’s holiday festival. Parents stopped to chat and gossip, making the narrow hall even harder to navigate. Smiling teachers stood at the entrance to each classroom wearing elf hats and tinsel as they invited parents to admire their children’s latest projects. Each classroom had set up an activity or snack, and Lily was anxious to visit as many as possible.

  Celia, exhausted from working a double shift at the Co-op Grocery and facing a late night finishing up an end-of-semester assignment for her design class, would have preferred to visit Lily’s classroom and go home, but Lily was in such high spirits that she didn’t have the heart to insist on leaving early.

  They’d visited the library and sat for a reading of The Polar Express, where they were served real hot chocolate by students dressed like elves and each child had been given a bell on a ribbon. They’d watched a puppet show version of the Hanukkah story in the art room, and had listened to carols played on a variety of instruments in the music room. Now, finally, it was time to see Lily’s classroom.

  In a way, Celia was grateful for Lily’s insistent pulling as it kept her from having to make small talk with the other parents. Silverweed Academy catered to town’s wealthier families. The school was a good fit for Lily, who was thriving academically, but Celia found it intimidating. The other parents made more money, drove better cars, and had high-powered jobs. Even the housewives among them could point to previous careers as executives and lawyers. Last year, when Celia’s friend Eva had been a parent there, it hadn’t felt so awkward, but Eva’s son Ben had gone on to the high school, and even after a year and a half, Celia really didn’t know any of the other parents. Whenever she was on school grounds, she always felt slightly as if she were trespassing.

  “Hello, Lily! Thank you so much for bringing your family here. Do you want to show them the project you’ve been working on?”

  Lily beamed up at her teacher, Ms. Pennyworth, and for a moment Celia forgot about being tired, stressed, or intimidated. That happy smile was the reason they were here. A year and a half ago, Lily had been miserable at school, getting in fights and pulling terrible grades. Once she’d switched to the Academy, with its smaller classes and emphasis on personalized learning plans, she’d begun to thrive.

  And despite the upheavals of the last year, she was still thriving, at least academically. At home, she was ... well, a handful and a half, as Celia’s mother liked to say, but Celia chose not to dwell on that at the moment.

  “We brought cookies.” Lily showed Mrs. Pennyworth the Tupperware box of treats. “I made them myself. And my sister really wants to see Norway,” Lily told Ms. Pennyworth. Celia knew that “Norway” was one of the “Christmas around the World” exhibits that Lily’s class and been working on. Lily had been particularly drawn to the fact that the oldest daughters in Scandinavian families traditionally wore crowns made of candles during the holiday season.

  Ms. Pennyworth laughed and ushered them into the classroom. “Those cookies look delicious, I can’t wait to try one. You can put them on the table over there and then show your family around.”

  The crowd around the cookie table was daunting. Lily slipped through it to add her cookies to a table covered with a green cloth and groaning under the weight of sugary treats while Celia, hoping the crowd would thin a bit, promised Rosie that they’d get something in a few minutes. Lily came back to proudly showed off a large poster board covered with information and pictures about Norwegian holiday traditions.

  “Today is St. Lucia’s Day, when the oldest daughter of a Norwegian family dresses up in a white robe with a red sash and wears a wreath of evergreen branches and candles on her head. With the help of her brothers and sisters, she serves coffee and traditional buns to her parents,” she half-recited, half-read off the posterboard. “If we were in Norway, that would be my job,” she added.

  Celia smiled and asked questions while Rosie, who was perhaps not quite as interested in Norway as Lily had claimed, impatiently tugged on Celia’s hand.

  “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. You did a great job.” She glanced over her shoulder. Parents and children still crowded around the cookie table, but it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been. “You want to see about getting some cookies now? I think Rosie’s about to explode.”

  Lily giggled. “Yeah, me too.”

  They’d taken only a few steps, though, when Lily seized another little girl by the hand. “Mom! This is Peyton. We want to have a playdate soon.”

  Peyton was shorter and slighter than Lily. In contrast to Lily’s barely brushed dark brown hair, Peyton’s honey-blond hair had been arranged in a neat French braid topped with a festive red hairband. Celia was struck by her large brown eyes, which contrasted rather dramatically with her hair. She wore a green knit dress, white tights and shiny black shoes.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Peyton,” Celia said. “You look very Christmas-y.” But the word that had actually come to her mind was precise. Peyton had a very precise look, not a hair out of place. So different from Lily in her deliberately mismatched socks, her pink second-hand sweater, and her sweatpants.

  “Thank you, Lily’s mom,” Peyton said politely. “It’s very nice to meet you, too.”

  Her words, too, were precise, spoken almost as if Peyton had rehearsed them. The little girl had an odd charm to her, Celia thought, though she
would not have expected her to be friends with the boisterous Lily. “Are your parents here?” she asked. “I could ask them about a playdate.”

  Peyton looked around. “There’s my dad.” She gestured to a tall man with dark hair and a serious expression who was talking to a small group of other fathers at the far end of the room. Celia raised her eyebrows slightly. Peyton’s dad was very good looking.

  Peyton caught his eye and beckoned him with a gesture. Still not smiling, he held up a hand in a “wait” gesture and continued to talking to the other men.

  Rosie tugged more insistently. “We’re going to grab a cookie,” Celia told Peyton. “Why don’t you introduce your dad when he’s done talking?”

  Peyton gave a quick look over her shoulder again. “Oh wait! Here he comes!”

  The tall man strode across the room, a slight frown on his face. “What is it, Peyton?”

  “Daddy, this is Lily’s mom.”

  Celia shifted Rowan back to one arm and reached out with her free hand, giving him her biggest smile. “Celia Jackson. Nice to meet you.”

  His large hand closed around hers as he looked down at her. At five foot seven, Celia wasn’t short, but he was several inches taller than she was, probably around six foot three, and perhaps a few years older than her. She placed him in his late thirties. He wore tailored khaki pants and a dark green cashmere sweater that stretched nicely over broad shoulders. He was handsome in the mold of a classic Hollywood movie star, with a strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, and wavy dark brown hair that hung just a little too long over the collar of his shirt. There was a faint but rather dashing scar over his left eyebrow.

  Dropping her gaze from the scar to his eyes, Celia could see a reflection of Peyton’s eyes—dark brown and reserved.

  “Richard Hawkes,” he said a bit absently. He frowned as if trying to remember something. “Celia Jackson ... Your name sounds familiar.”

  She resisted the urge to point out the obvious—that their kids had been in the same class since September and he’d probably seen her name in the school directory. “Well—”

  “Oh, your daughter’s one of our scholarship students, isn’t she? I’m on the board. I remember your name coming up.”

  Well, this was awkward. “Yes, thank you. The scholarship’s been a huge help.”

  “Your husband died suddenly about a year ago, didn’t he? Very sorry about that.” His tone was perfunctory, and she imagined that he was studying her to see what a scholarship family actually looked like.

  Yes, well, now that we’ve established that I’m an impoverished widow, how about we arrange a playdate? she thought.

  “Thank you,” was what she said, sounding a bit perfunctory herself. “Lily and Peyton were just asking about a playdate—”

  He cut her off. “That sounds nice. Unfortunately, we’ll be away over the holidays. Perhaps I can call you next semester.”

  “Um, sure,” Celia replied.

  He nodded sharply. “Good. Now, would you excuse me? I need to talk to some people.”

  “Of course.” Celia watched his retreating back in shock. Wow, what a waste of good looks. She shook her head. No one at the school had been outright rude to her before, certainly not in connection with their scholarship status, and she felt first stunned, then angry. She looked down into Peyton and Lily’s confused faces. “Well, hopefully we can have a playdate with you soon,” she said as cheerfully as she could to Peyton. “Where are you going over the holidays?”

  Peyton shrugged slightly. “To Bend to see my grandparents,” she said.

  “Well, that sounds like fun.”

  “I guess,” said Peyton.

  Lily jumped in. “C’mon, let’s get a cookie! You have to try the ones we brought, I made them myself.” She and Peyton turned to the cookie-laden table but Richard called out from across the room.

  “Peyton! No more cookies. Why don’t you say goodbye to your friend? We need to leave in just a moment anyway.”

  A mutinous look crossed Peyton’s pretty face but she got control of it. “It was nice to meet you, Lily’s mom,” she said politely. “Bye, Lily.”

  “Bye.”

  The disappointment in Lily’s voice made Celia even more annoyed. What a jerk.

  Celia watched Peyton turn away then, not wanting to make eye contact with Richard again, she turned assertively back to the table. “C’mon, guys, let’s get your cookies.”

  Richard Hawkes sat in his office in Falls State University’s department of engineering. Outside his office window, heavy, wet chunks of snow were starting to fall. Inside, a stack of term papers sat on his desk waiting to be graded. He had only a few more days before he needed to turn grades in, and he kicked himself for not hiring a teaching assistant this semester. Unlike most of his colleagues, he never hired a TA. He enjoyed teaching—and, he was well aware, he was a bit of a control freak who didn’t delegate responsibility easily—but at the end of the semester, he inevitably regretted not having someone on hand to help him.

  His thoughts kept sliding away from the essays and back to the woman he’d met at the Academy’s holiday festival the night before. Her delicate slenderness had been offset by the fact that she’d been carrying a rather heavy-looking baby with apparent ease. In contrast to many of the Academy moms, she wore little make-up, and her straight blond hair was pulled back into a casual ponytail. Those factors alone might have made her stand out, but she also had the most astonishing eyes; they were a dark, almost navy, blue that made a startling contrast with her fair skin and blond hair. He couldn’t seem to shake the image of those eyes.

  Nor could he shake the image of the shadow that had fallen over them when he’d been so rude to her. Even more than not hiring a TA, he regretted that he’d insulted her.

  Step one in alienating the mother of your only child’s best friend: remind the grieving widow of her loss and, for good measure, her dependence on the school’s charity.

  Step two: Beat a hasty retreat out of sheer awkwardness, leaving the actual issue of a playdate up in the air.

  He hadn’t meant to be rude, but people skills were a weak point. As a professor of civil engineering, he was known as being a tough but fair teacher, a charismatic speaker, and highly knowledgeable about his field. When it came to socializing, however, his ability to make precise assessments and state them bluntly was more of a liability than an asset. When he’d heard Celia’s name, his analytical mind had gone to straight to the one and only thing he knew about her—that barely a semester after her daughter had started school there, she’d applied for a scholarship because her husband had been killed in some kind of accident—and he’d tactlessly brought it up, only to see her cheerful smile and the friendly look in her eyes vanish as her expression became guarded and closed off.

  He should have been able to handle something that simple. Melanie had taken care of Peyton’s social life until she had essentially walked off the job. Now Richard felt somewhat at sea as a single dad trying to navigate the feminine waters of the elementary school social circuit.

  He and Peyton really were busy over the holidays, but perhaps he should call Celia and tell her that they could arrange something early in the new year. Then again, he wasn’t usually much better over the phone than in person. Would it be strange to email another parent about a playdate?

  His musings were interrupted by a knock on his door frame. He looked up.

  “Angel!” He gave her a broad smile, happy to have a distraction. Perhaps because she was a student and much younger than he was, he never felt awkward around Angel, despite the fact that she’d seen his family through some of their worst and most personal times. Or perhaps it was simply because she was Angel, and she was one of those people who made other people feel comfortable regardless of the circumstance. “What brings you here?”

  Even dressed for winter, Angel Mendez managed to show off her slim figure in skinny jeans and a short, fitted parka. During the dreary Northwest winter, the prevailing dress code
for the students at Falls State was practical, waterproof, and bland, but Angel managed a distinctly urban flair. Even on the coldest days, she could be found sporting rhinestones and hair extensions in a variety of creative colors. Richard had never seen her without makeup—a lot of it—or perfectly manicured nails. He’d often wondered how she was able to type her term papers with nails that long but had never asked her.

  “Hi, Richard.” She slipped into the office and sat down in front of his desk. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  Ordinarily, Richard would have frowned at an undergraduate calling him by his first name, but Angel had been part of his life and Peyton’s for almost two years and had earned the intimacy. Nonetheless, a thread of worry crept over him. Angel’s smile usually lit up any room she walked into, but today she looked serious and even a bit downcast.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Angel took a deep breath. “I just came from a meeting with my advisor over in Psych,” she said. “Here’s the thing: I have enough credits to graduate right now. Which I knew, and I was going to just finish out the year, but it’s really expensive, and my advisor thinks I could get a decent job right now. In fact, he thinks it would be better if I start looking now, and not when everyone else is on the job market.” She took a deep breath. “So I’m going back to Eugene next semester. I know it’s short notice, and I’m really sorry ...”

  His heart sank. He half wanted to offer to pay her tuition for the next semester if it would mean her staying and continuing to look after Peyton. But even if he could have afforded it, it wouldn’t have been fair to Angel, who deserved to get on with her desired career as a children’s therapist. She’d be great at it, he had no doubt. She’d been amazing with Peyton.