by Beth Byers
“You gonna take that puppy? They look like basset hounds, but Kat Masterson’s female isn’t a full breed. She’d be furious with her son for saying the dog was pure.”
The puppy wriggled in my arms and kissed me again. As if it knew its future was on the line, the puppy squirmed, kissing my cheek and laying its chin on my shoulder.
“I do feel like I’ve been chosen. I’m not sure I can leave..umm…” I checked the sex and then said, “Her behind.”
The man grinned at me showcasing a handsome set of teeth and making my knees weaken a bit. I was easy. I had worked too long in a call center full of people warped by their work. “You from around here?”
I scrunched my nose, told myself to make friends and not freeze up just because he was handsome and talking to me, and said, “I hope to be, but I’m moving here from Gresham. Just staying in a little rental right now, and kind of…figuring things out.”
There was something warm in his eyes that I hadn’t seen for quite some time and I certainly hadn’t expected. I tucked my hair—my frizzy reddish hair—behind my ear and wondered how I looked after the drive. Given that I’d rolled the windows down and let the wind push me along, I suspected I looked a little bit homeless.
But, the flash of his grin said that he liked my answer, and I could feel my face heat in response to the way his eyes roved over me. Mostly my face, a level of tact I appreciated, since I was a bit thick from too much time literally tied to a phone and a chair.
“Well now, JJ,” he said, glancing at the boy. “Tell us about these pups.”
JJ told me that my puppy was the one who liked to snuggle and had been sleeping by his shoulder every single night. Her best friend was a little fellow with darker ears and freckles. The man the kid had called ‘tective held out his fingers to my little gal’s buddy. What could ‘tective mean? Was it some weird nickname? Like the things people called each other while they were playing video games? I wouldn’t be surprised to find out this man played video games with little boys just to make them happy.
My puppy’s little buddy waggled his tail and yipped at the man frantically. He circled the ‘tective’s boot like a kitty and then pawed at his calf.
“Uh-oh,” I said, wondering if he’d succumb. He put his hands on very lean hips and the puppy yipped at him again, touching him lightly with a paw—all the while, the puppy’s tail was waving so frantically it beat a tattoo against the ground.
The man looked over at me, grinned again—further weakening my knees—and scooped the pup up. Was it gratuitous for an attractive man to stand there smiling at me with a puppy in his arms? There was something almost—explicit—about a tall, handsome man holding a wriggling, yipping, puppy. Yes. Yes. It was definitely gratuitous to see something quite so knee-weakening.
“I’m Simon Banks,” he said, scratching the puppy’s belly.
Yes, I thought, yes. Regardless of who this fellow was—this moment of watching him semi-flirt over a puppy belly had made this day perfect.
“Rosemary Baldwin,” I replied and scratched his puppy’s belly as a sort of adjusted handshake.
“You going to the jazz festival in the park tonight?”
I paused, wondering if he was asking me out, and then risked, “I hadn’t heard about it, but that does sound fun.”
“Maybe you’d like to join me for a picnic?”
I blinked. He was. He was asking me out. I liked the kindness in his eyes and the way he scratched that puppy’s belly and the way the kid was looking at Simon as if he were a hero.
“That sounds lovely,” I answered in a smooth, confident voice that definitely did not belong to me. “I need to get situated, but I should be able to make it.”
“Great,” he said. He glanced me over again, took note of the little red and white basset puppy in my hands and asked, “Need the puppy aisle?”
I grinned and followed unashamedly enjoying the view from behind. He was charming and shopping for my little friend made my 2nd chance seem all the more real, far more so than the car had. Maybe because the car had been my mom’s insistence, and the dog was all me. I found her a pink collar with white daisies on it, a name tag, and a few other things. She had red ears and little red freckles on her nose, and her wrinkly, floppy skin was the softest. Her sweet puppy breath, and a few more kisses, and things were looking up.
On the way out, I dug into my pocket and pulled out $50 for the child. These puppies hadn’t been free to take care of, and I was betting his mom would have eventually bought him that game. I wanted to help at least some because I was thoroughly in love.
Simon noticed but said nothing. He did, however, walk me all the way to my car, opened the back for me, and said, “His mom really did tell him to give those puppies away. Jay’s right. You are a softy.”
I grinned as I confessed, “The boy is a charming scamp. And the puppies cost them money to care for.”
Simon laughed. “And sharp. He was right. You are a softy.”
I shrugged since what else could I say?
His voice deepened in the next moment and I had to pause in sheer appreciation as he said, “I’m glad you’re moving here, Rosemary.”
“Me too.” Suddenly feeling like an idiot, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with my hands and my hips were 4 sizes bigger than they had been a few moments before and somehow my feet were clownishly large.
“Are you going to work from home? Or did you get a job here? You looking?”
I hadn’t told anyone but my mom what my plans were. It took me a moment to gear up my courage and then I admitted, “I’m planning to open a diner or perhaps a coffee shop.”
My little puppy licked me and wriggled in my arms as if she approved. Or maybe she just sensed how stressed it made me admit my dream which sounded so…insane. It was like saying you wanted to make a living by painting portraits—unlikely. Businesses like the one I was talking about failed all the time.
“Are you now? Have you been to Jenny’s?”
I shook my head, hoping this wasn’t some friend who already had an awesome diner and wouldn’t like my plans.
“She’s looking to sell. Has been for a while. You might check her out.”
“Really?” I felt a thrill of hope that I could actually get my dream up and running. Maybe very soon.
Simon nodded and said, “She’s on Main Street right next to the Soda Shoppe. Seems like a good spot for a restaurant to me. Now if you buy that place…” He paused dramatically and said, “I’m going to need to keep finding cinnamon roll pancakes for breakfast.”
“I might be able to do that,” I said, knowing cinnamon roll pancakes would be going on the official menu. What could be better than somewhere that was already established? I was getting super excited at the idea. Maybe I’d be pouring out pancakes and experimenting with the recipes that I was still working on in a week or two. How long did it take to buy a diner if it was the right one for me? I could always slowly update it to the dream. That might even be better if it were a well-loved place. My mind was racing, and my heart was thudding, and I was so excited I wanted to bounce, but I didn’t want to look like a child.
“I’ll have to check it out,” I said, trying to keep cool. “So where’s the festival?”
“In the park next to the beach. Meet you by the Sacajawea statue. 7:00?”
I grinned and nodded and opened the passenger door of my car. I’d bought the puppy a bed, and I placed it on the passenger seat and then put her in her new place. When I stood, he shut the door and walked me around the car to open the driver’s side for me.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Rose,” Simon said.
And then he did that grin again. I suppose it had just been too long since I’d had attention from anyone. Which wasn’t quite true, I just hadn’t been that interested in anyone who’d made overtures before now.
“Likewise,” I told him, hoping that meeting a gentleman before I’d even reached my new hometown was a sign of good things to come and also tha
t he really was a gentleman.
* * * * *
My rental was one in a set of cottages. They surrounded a courtyard on three sides with the final side being the parking lot. The shared yard had a play set, a picnic table, and several benches. Each cottage had the weathered looked of repurposed layered shingles. With bright doors and white shutters and flower boxes, the cottages were especially adorable given how the flower boxes and garden beds were full of flowers and greenery.
I walked through the little place with my puppy under my arm. There was a living area with a small kitchen and eating nook, a bedroom, and a big bathroom. The bedroom wasn’t much bigger than the bed and an armoire, but it was lovely in shades of gray and green. The living room was a couch, a few chairs that faced the ocean, and a flat screen tv. The view was, of course, breathtaking. The Oregon Coast might not be warm or conducive to sunbathing, but it was shockingly beautiful. I had one of the cottages with the backside facing the ocean, and there was a wide picture window off of the living space that showed the crashing gray ocean and gray skies.
The cottage was barely larger than a studio apartment, but it had things no college apartment would have: a large soaking tub, a separate shower, wide cushy chairs, and a fireplace. There was a fenced back deck area with a four-person hot-tub, a tiny patch of grass just big enough for the pup to to do her business, and a small gas grill.
My puppy enjoyed every second running around, barking at anything that moved in between marking her territory. Her floppy ears begged me to caress them, and I paused from unpacking my car long enough to play with the puppy.
It wasn’t until I started folding my clothes to put them away that I realized I didn’t want those old things to contaminate my new life. I didn’t want my call center khakis or the threadbare cardigans I’d worn year-round to hang in the tiny armoire. I pulled out a plaid shirt I’d worn often and pulled it on. Working in the call center had given me a wider bottom and a bigger chest, and the shirt hadn’t fit right for some time, but I’d just worn it anyway. I threw it on over a tank with lipgloss and a slapped dash of eyeshadow over my eyes, not really caring how I looked. Not anymore. Instead of putting my clothes away, I ruthlessly culled them and found myself left with a tiny pile of clothes that I didn’t despise.
Was I being frivolous to decide to get new things? I couldn’t help but wonder what my mom would think. She would, I realized, rub her hands together in sheer, unadulterated joy and then make a comment about how it was long overdue. That clinched it. Plus, I rationalized wickedly, shopping would be a great way to check out the town. Ensure that this was where I wanted to live. We’d done enough research to know that Silver Falls was a booming town for tourism rather like Cannon Beach or Leavenworth. It pulled in visitors with the sheer quaintness. Double checking what we’d researched while I shopped would be useful especially if I swung by Jenny’s Diner and tried it out as a customer instead of a potential buyer.
I dug through the cabinets in the cottage until I found garbage bags and ruthlessly shoved in my rejects and then dragged all of those things back to my Forrester.
“Well puppy…”
She yipped at me.
“Want to go shopping?”
She jumped up, putting her paws on my shin, tongue lolling, and I scooped her up and let her lick my chin.
“Did you want a name?”
Her reply was a wriggling bottom until she was able to put her paws over my shoulder and nuzzle my neck.
I took inspiration from her collar, “How about Daisy?”
She nuzzled her nose into my neck and I took that as acceptance. Silver Falls was small enough that we walked from the cottage to the downtown area. As we did, I took deep breaths of salty sea air and had to acknowledge how very much I was enjoying being free from corporate life. I felt a bit as if someone had taken shackles from my ankles, and a part of me was terrified I was about to be caught and hooked back up.
We paused while Daisy did her business for approximately the 70th time and as we did, I tucked my hair behind my ear, letting my head fall back and my eyelids go red in the sunlight. I took in a deep breath and wondered yet again, was this really happening?
A door slammed nearby shocking me out of my daydream. I rubbed my eyes and glanced around, but I couldn’t see where it had come from. Perhaps it was just the wind given the way it was whipping through town. It had shut the door, but a moment later I heard, “Are you kidding me? You think I don’t know what this is about? You think I don’t what kind of person you are?”
I didn’t want to glance around, but the girl—her voice was distinctly feminine—was yelling. And it was small-town life right? Snooping is what people did…I glanced towards the shouts and saw a curvaceous girl with a dark ponytail and a green dress uniform get into a small hatchback and peel away from the curb. I couldn’t see much more and she was coming far too fast, so I scooped Daisy up and stepped quickly back. I could see tears on her tan face. The distress was so distinct that I had to say a quick prayer that there wouldn’t be an accident given she was far too emotional to be driving.
“Poor kid,” I told Daisy. I thought about how fast the girl had been driving and added, “Poor, stupid kid.”
Chapter 3
I shopped until I was loaded down with bags. If getting a new wardrobe was any indication of how my new life was going to go, it was going to be expensive but super, super cute. I followed up by eating at Jenny’s. The Jenny in question was ancient, she wore orthotics, had thin hair, cat-eye glasses, and walked with a slight limp. Her food, however, was amazing. I tried my favorite diner food that I rarely indulged in—chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, and steamed broccoli. My stomach was pushing out over the top of my pants when I added the apple crumb pie.
Her staff was a woman nearly as old but twice as sprightly and the young girl who’d driven far too quickly. That girl didn’t have an ounce of the emotions she’d been carrying earlier on her face, and she was quick to refill my glass, deliver the food, and chatter about the town.
I asked her about the diner itself, somewhere to get my hair done, and how long she’d lived in town. She answered, but kept moving somehow making it seem like she wasn’t snubbing you while still doing her job.
Tara, the diner girl, had suggested the Ocean Breeze Spa for me. I figured I’d be able to get news as well as a new cut. I’d added color and a mani and a pedi just to keep the gossip coming. And I’d learned a lot. Jenny’s Diner was a huge favorite of the town and a favorite place for brunch. The woman who owned it had opened it decades ago when Silver Falls had been tiny. There were people who lived in town who were just as likely to have breakfast there every day as they were to have breakfast at home. She couldn’t sell the diner because no one was willing to keep the staff on without question. Plus, with the precarious financial times, a diner at the beach was risky for anyone.
“That’s a sweet little thing in your lap,” my stylist, Mattie said referring to the puppy, Daisy.
“Isn’t she?” It took me a moment to gather up my courage and I said, “I got her from a kid named JJ Masterson at the feed store. A real tall guy who said he was from here got one too. He was a real sweetie too. Y’all are so friendly.”
The stylist was no fool and she winked at me as she said, “Gotta name?”
I grinned at that wink and asked, “Simon? Super tall. Dark hair. Dark eyes.”
“Lovely build,” she added. “Simon, the delicious? Good guy. A cop.”
Aw. That explained the ‘tective.
“He grew up here, went away to school, and came back to be a cop. Most would tell you he’s a playboy, but he’s my friend, and he’s not a playboy. He’s not fickle…he is a good guy. He just hasn’t settled down and everyone keeps expecting the next person he dates to be the one. Makes him edgy.”
“You said he was a good guy twice,” I said, thinking red flag. The idea of avoiding him was deflating my perfect day.
Mattie shook her head and said, “No, h
e really is a good guy. Just…don’t get ahead of yourself with him. He plays straight. Don’t read into…everything. Or anything.”
I shifted just enough that Mattie was able to tell that Simon and I already had plans. She leaned down, taking my shoulder gently and saying, “Really. He is a good guy. He really is my friend.”
Ok, I thought, ok. I scrunched up my nose and said, “Just have fun.”
“Yes,” Mattie said, adding, “Simon has been my friend since 3rd grade. He is a good guy. Also, your hair looks amazing even if I did do it myself.” She ran her fingers through it and said, “I haven’t had so much fun in a while.”
“It’s amazing what happens,” I said dryly, “when someone gives you free rein. Now make it look like it wasn’t done for a date.”
She laughed, mussing it as she asked, “Jazz festival? Simon’s a huge fan.”
I nodded, and she pulled back the top of my hair putting it into sort of messy half-bun. She sprayed the rest with something that dirtied it up and disguised a little bit of the sharp edges. I doubted it would really disguise that I’d gotten my hair done—especially if he was a cop and even semi-observant, but at least it made it seem like it was less of a big deal.
I’d cut my own hair in the bathroom the last time it had been done. The time before that I’d made my mom do it, and she’d had to have 2 glasses of wine before she dared my wrath if she screwed up. The wine was reflected in the cut. I just hadn’t cared.
“The way to his heart is food,” Mattie told me as she talked me into product after product for my hair. Not that I’d know how to use most of them.
“You stop it,” I said, taking the bag from her, adding it to my other bags, and said, “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Mattie said with another wink, “That color is best kept up at least every 4-6 weeks.”
I paused and she grinned. “You’re a clever businesswoman, Mattie.”
Her grin was pure naughty as she saw me out the door, saying, “I’ll call you for my next girl’s night. I feel like you’ll fit right in.”
