“Perfect.” And it really was. Actually, this trip was becoming a bit more than perfect.
Chapter Three
Noah Kennedy cranked up his SUV and backed out of the driveway right after Meredith did. He felt cautiously optimistic that he’d found a buyer for his grandmother’s house. As a high-school guidance counselor these past few years, he’d become pretty good at reading people. He could see it on her face, hear it in her voice: Meredith Clark loved that house.
Now all he had to do was not blow a sale by insulting her. The way she’d taken his comment about raking leaves led him to believe she was the sensitive sort. And maybe prone to jumping to the wrong conclusions.
As good as he’d become at reading people, he still hadn’t figured out women. Correction: just when he thought he had, they proved him wrong. And he hadn’t gotten much of a read on Meredith Clark prior to meeting her. She’d told him in an e-mail that she was relocating from Las Vegas, but since she hadn’t said why, he was left to wonder how she’d ended up in Kansas. Not that Nashville wasn’t a great place to live. He was just curious, that’s all.
Curious.
And interested.
He’d been drawn to Meredith the second she stepped out of her car. He’d liked the feel of her hand in his. Liked her smile and the sparkle in her brown eyes. Liked the brunette locks that cascaded over her shoulders and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Liked the grace with which she moved.
He could easily picture Meredith living in his grandmother’s house. The unsettling part of that was he could also picture living there with her.
* * *
Meredith spent her first night in Nashville, Kansas, at a local bed-and-breakfast. According to the Internet, it seemed to be the only place available locally. It was a big, old, well-kept Victorian run by a couple named Walt and Beverly Collins. Beverly, Meredith surmised, was a fount of local knowledge. She kept up a running patter of conversation about the house and a few of its former guests.
“Walt’s grandmother left it to us,” she said, as she led Meredith up the creaky stairs that were covered with a red runner. “It probably would have been kinder if she hadn’t. This old place eats money for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, what with the maintenance and repairs. But Walt didn’t want to give it up. He loves this place. That’s why we turned it into a B and B. Only way we could keep it.
“Congressman Hicks stayed here one night when he was on his way to Topeka. And the mayor’s daughter got married here last year. Never considered having a wedding here before, but it turned out perfect.”
Beverly opened the door to a pretty bedroom with walls painted slate blue with crisp white trim. “I always give visitors this room if it’s available. It’s got a view of the backyard and the nicest bathroom.”
“It’s lovely,” Meredith said. She ran her hand along the handmade quilt covering the bed and tested the cushions on the love seat placed beneath the window. A perfect place to curl up and read, she decided.
“Yard don’t look like much now, of course, but in June, it was pretty, with the flowers blooming.” Beverly stepped up next to Meredith and pointed. “They did the ceremony there in the gazebo. Rented a bunch of white folding chairs and a tent for the reception. Never had so many people in the house at once. But that wedding paid for the new furnace.”
“I think it’s a beautiful spot for a wedding.”
“Sure was,” Beverly agreed. “Gave me ideas, too. Opened up the place for private parties and baby showers and such. The mayor and his wife had their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party here in September. Put the band in the gazebo and brought in a temporary dance floor.”
Meredith covered her mouth and yawned. Her days of being on the road were catching up with her.
“You look done in, honey,” Beverly said. “And here I am, talking your ear off.”
“It’s all right,” Meredith said. “But I’ve been driving for two days. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep.”
“Well, you go right ahead. The other reason I give guests this room is it’s the quietest.”
“It’s just what I need, then.”
“I’ll skedaddle. We don’t serve dinner, but there are menus there in the nightstand drawer. The Pizza Palace delivers until nine. We serve breakfast from eight to ten. It’s included in the price of the room, of course. Dining room’s just past the stairs on the right.”
“I’ll be there,” Meredith assured her. She got the feeling that breakfast was not to be missed. Beverly was the kind of woman who inspired confidence. She was probably a fantastic cook.
“Towels are in the bathroom, and there’s an extra blanket in the closet. If you need anything, you just dial one on the phone there. Me or Walt will answer.”
“Thank you,” Meredith said again.
The Twelve Oaks Inn was a far cry from the Venetian or Mandalay Bay, but it had a quaint charm all its own. And an owner who clearly cared about the quality of the business.
Although darkness had fallen, it wasn’t that late. If she were still working in Vegas, Meredith realized, she’d be preparing for the first show right about now.
But those days, that life, was over. And she felt free, she realized as she unzipped her overnight bag and found her nightshirt and toiletry case. She’d chosen this new life. A very different life. Tired as she was, she felt a tingle of excitement at the thought of what the future might hold.
She took a long shower, luxuriating in the knowledge that she could sleep in, that she had no schedule, no demands. No classes. No performances. Except that ten o’clock appointment with Noah. Maybe that was causing the tingle of excitement. Partly, she allowed. But not entirely.
The bed held more appeal than a pizza. She told herself she wasn’t that hungry anyway. She fell asleep minutes after her head hit the pillow. . . .
She saw herself as if watching from a distance, wearing a flowing white dress, walking through a garden filled with flowers. In fact, she held a bouquet of flowers. There were flowers in her hair. Flowers everywhere, it seemed. And ribbons. And rows of white chairs. A gazebo where people waited for her, their faces indistinct. She kept walking but seemed to grow no closer to them. She knew a moment of frustration, of indecision. She wanted to move toward that gazebo, to whoever waited for her there. But it was as if she were walking into a strong wind. Something held her back from getting there.
She dreamed of the house she’d seen earlier. But in the dream, the house was furnished. Her subconscious led her through the rooms like one of the computer programs on those design shows on HGTV. There was the sectional sofa of her imagination that fit perfectly in the living room. It was a slate blue just like the walls of the bedroom where she slept. Flames lit up the little fireplace. There were pictures on the walls and knickknacks on the mantel. Lamps on the end tables. A teapot on the coffee table along with two mugs. Why would there be two? the dreaming Meredith wondered before she continued her 3-D tour.
In the kitchen eating area, a small table sat next to the window. Three chairs were placed around the table. Why three? she wondered in her dream.
The dining room held a bigger table, a modern design of dark wood with six cushioned chairs to match. Meredith smiled in her sleep. Noah’s grandmother’s house was perfect for her.
Down the hallway, the back bedroom held a twin bed. The walls were painted lavender. There was a little white table and two tiny chairs in the corner. A toy tea set was set up. A fuzzy, brown, stuffed bear occupied one of the chairs, and a doll with curly blond hair wearing an old-fashioned pinafore leaned back in the other one. Meredith had the thought that the doll was looking down her nose at the bear as if he’d committed some unforgivable faux pas at her tea party.
The master bedroom across the hall held a sleigh bed with a pillow-top queen mattress covered with the same quilt Meredith currently slept under. The leaves of the oak tree in the front yard were green, and dapples of sunlight spilled through onto the grassy lawn and the woo
d swing beneath it.
Suddenly, Meredith found herself seated on the back porch with a cup of coffee in front of her and the pages of the newspaper scattered around her. But her focus wasn’t on the news of the day or her coffee cup. She was gazing at the swing set, where a man pushed a little girl on one of the two swings. Meredith imagined she could hear the child’s squeals of delight as her dark hair flew out behind her. The man looked as happy as the child, and when he looked Meredith’s way, he waved. Somehow, Meredith could see him clearly across the expanse of yard. His eyes were a dark blue. So were those of the girl in the swing.
Meredith woke with a start. Sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains covering the window of her room at the Twelve Oaks Inn. She stared at the clock on the nightstand, which told her it was just after eight.
The faint scent of bacon and something else equally tantalizing drifted into the room. Her stomach growled in response. She was hungry but not quite ready to get up and get dressed. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the tendrils of her dreams. They dwindled rapidly like a barely there whiff of perfume in the air. Confusing, crazy dreams, but parts of them had been surprisingly realistic. Especially the tour of the house she’d already decided would be hers. That vision, no matter what else her subconscious had made up, would soon be part of her reality.
She pushed back the covers and dressed in the outfit she’d brought in with her last night. She brushed her hair and used a bare minimum of cosmetics. No more extrathick false eyelashes and overly dramatic makeup created by layers of tan pancake foundation, or cheeks as red as a clown’s.
She brushed mascara across her lashes and checked her look in the mirror. She looked normal. Natural. The pinkish red color of the turtleneck she wore was a good color on her. She had lipstick in the same color. She smiled at her reflection. Her stomach growled again. It was definitely time for breakfast.
“There you are,” Beverly greeted Meredith as she entered the dining room. “I’ve got bacon ready. Waffles out in a minute. There’s coffee there on the sideboard. Or tea if you want it. Hot water in the carafe. I’ll be right back.”
Everything smelled so good. Meredith’s mouth watered as she helped herself to coffee. She took a plate and snatched two pieces of crisp bacon from the covered tray Beverly had indicated. They were gone before Beverly returned with another tray piled high with Belgian waffles.
“That’s what I smelled!” Meredith exclaimed. “Oh my, these look so good.”
“Best in town.” Beverly blushed with pride. “I’ve got homemade strawberry jam there or maple syrup, of course.”
The jam was in a pretty, glass-covered container. Meredith spooned some onto one of the waffles and took a bite. Her manners seemed to have deserted her. “Delicious,” she proclaimed. “You should start serving breakfast all the time.”
Beverly poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table. “You think so? I’ve thought about it. Maybe just on the weekends.”
“Or you could do a Sunday brunch buffet. Reservations only.”
Beverly looked doubtful. “What about church?”
“Church?” Meredith had never been a churchgoer. She decided to tread carefully. “What time is that?”
“The early service is at nine. Or there’s one at ten-thirty.”
Meredith was used to Vegas, where it seemed most of the Sunday brunch crowd was just waking up after a late night out. But, she supposed, some of them might have been coming from religious services. It wasn’t as if they wore identification. She had never really thought about it.
“Obviously, I’m new in town, so I don’t know the routines here. In Vegas, what they’d call brunch didn’t start before ten-thirty or eleven, and it ran until two or three. Because, of course, brunch is kind of a hybrid, a mixture of breakfast and lunch. Plus, people like to take it easy on Sundays, sleep in, maybe.”
Beverly nodded. “That’s true. That’s not just in Las Vegas. I think it’s everywhere.”
“If you wanted to do Sundays, maybe you could do some of the prep the night before. Scramble the eggs, mix up waffle batter. Whatever you plan to make.”
Beverly thought about that. “Certainly I could do a lot of it ahead of time.”
“Maybe you could hire an assistant.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I bet there’s a high-school kid who wouldn’t mind making a few dollars for a few hours of work.”
“You know, my friend Charlene mentioned her niece is trying to save money for the senior class trip.”
“Teenagers always need money, from what I hear.” Meredith thought for a moment. “You could always do a Saturday brunch, couldn’t you, if you don’t want to do Sundays?”
“I suppose I could. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
Meredith reached for another waffle and another slice of bacon. “You know something else you could do? Write a cookbook.”
“A cookbook? Me?” Beverly looked absolutely shocked by the idea.
“Why not? Call it Secrets of Twelve Oaks Inn or something like that. Because I’m betting you’ve got more tricks up your sleeve than just these marvelous waffles and this to-die-for jam.”
Beverly blushed. “Well, I do get compliments on my cooking.”
“And if you decide not to do the weekend or the Sunday brunch thing, you could still do it for special occasions.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Meredith was making everything up as she went along. “Valentine’s Day? New Year’s Day? The Fourth of July? You know—have a theme for each one. Like maybe for the Fourth of July you do pancakes with colored syrups or jams. Strawberry and blueberry and . . . white chocolate, maybe? For the red, white, and blue theme. You could make fruit smoothies, too, with the same colors and flavors. And yogurt parfaits. Those are super popular.”
“You sure have a lot of good ideas,” Beverly said as she refilled their coffee cups.
“That’s because your food is inspiring.”
A timer dinged beyond the swinging door into the kitchen. Beverly snapped her fingers. “Those are my cinnamon rolls. I’ll be right back.”
Meredith groaned. She loved cinnamon rolls. She hoped they were the kind with the cream cheese frosting melting down into them. Those were her favorite. She polished off the last bite of bacon, fully intending to make room for at least one of Beverly’s rolls. If Meredith kept eating like this, she knew she’d have to do more than just rake leaves to stay in shape.
Chapter Four
When Noah arrived at the Grind, Meredith was already seated at one of the small tables. She had a cup of what looked like hot chocolate and was studying the want ads in the Nashville News.
Noah got a cup of dark roast and joined her. “That better not be the real estate section,” he joked.
“It’s not.”
She grinned at him, and he once again felt that tug toward her. She looked more put together than she had last night, like she’d slept well after her exhausting days of driving. She wore a cranberry turtleneck sweater, a tweed jacket, and jeans. Her lips were the same color as the sweater. He wanted to kiss her but managed to quell such an inappropriate impulse. First, he’d sell her the house. Then he’d kiss her.
He leaned over and tried to read the newspaper upside down. “Job hunting?”
“I’ll need to find something if I’m going to buy the house.”
Noah was afraid to ask, but he had to. “And are you?”
“I am.”
He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t a done deal yet. “What about the price?”
Meredith studied him for a moment. “It seems reasonable. Much less than anything in Vegas, certainly.”
“You’ll want to have it appraised. You’ll have to anyway, to get financing.”
“I don’t need financing,” Meredith informed him.
That surprised him. Meredith Clark, he decided, was just full of surprises. “Great. Should I ha
ve my attorney draw up the papers?”
“It will take me a few days. I’ll have to transfer some funds.”
“So, full asking price?” Noah held his breath.
Meredith’s eyes twinkled. “Unless you want to give me a welcome-to-the-neighborhood discount.”
“How about if I help you find a job instead? There’s an opening for an aide at the high school.”
“I know. I saw that.”
“I could put in a good word for you.”
She sat back and studied him. “You hardly know me.”
But I’m already half in love with you. Now where had that thought come from? Noah mentally shook himself. “Look before you leap,” his grandmother had been fond of saying. It was about time he took her advice. “I work there. I’m on good terms with the principal. He’d be the one interviewing you.”
* * *
The rest of the week passed quickly, in a whirlwind of activity. Noah gave her a set of house keys as a good-faith gesture. Meredith drove to Greenburg, the nearest large town, to make arrangements for her funds to be transferred to a local bank. Then she stopped at the mall and bought a sleeping bag. There was no reason she couldn’t camp out on the floor until she closed on the house and bought some furniture. She certainly wasn’t going to buy a sofa and a bed until the house was hers. Look before you leap. She was learning.
While at the mall, she decided to get a haircut. Something shorter and sassier to go with all the other changes in her life.
Nick Collins, the high-school principal, contacted her the day after she submitted her application. That made her wonder if Noah had indeed put in a good word for her. Although there was no reason why he should; he really didn’t know her or anything about her. But maybe that’s the way it was in a small town. One neighbor doing a good turn for another for no reason. She’d have to get used to that after the survival-of-the-fittest attitude she was used to in Vegas.
She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Noah in the school office when she arrived for her interview. He had told her he worked there, after all, although she didn’t know in what capacity.
Winter Wishes Page 2
