by Susan Crosby
He pulled up a footstool to sit next to her. “Where’s Caroline?”
“I don’t know if she’s still at Aggie’s or elsewhere now. I told her I didn’t need anything.”
“Have you liked having her here?”
“Oh, yes. She’s quite different from Dixie, of course, but efficient and attentive.” She cupped his chin. “What’s wrong?”
“Dixie and I broke up for good.”
“Ah. I see.”
“I’m telling you because—” He stopped. “I don’t know why.”
“Of course you do.”
He found he could smile. “Enlighten me, please.”
“You and I have always had a special bond, haven’t we? You were the last born, the one who usually gets the least attention. I made it my purpose to make sure you got lots.”
He hadn’t known that was her purpose, but he had always felt deeply loved. “You made me feel special.”
“You are special. Joseph, you held this family together after your father died. You shouldered burdens even when it stopped being necessary. Your sisters all have husbands who love and take care of them. Aggie came out of mourning for your father and has gone on to live well. She’s happy.” Nana Mae patted his shoulder. “It’s your turn, just as it’s Dixie’s turn. She’s done the same as you—shouldered the burdens of her family, trying to fill the empty spaces left by her brother and sister, feeling responsible for everyone’s happiness. You two are peas in a pod. Why do you think you’ve always sparred so much?”
“It hadn’t occurred to me.”
“You’ve broken up before, and she’s always taken you back. Why do you think it’s different this time?”
“We said goodbye.”
“Ah. Are you wanting advice, Joe?”
“I want some peace.”
She nodded. “Okay, then. Have faith.”
He frowned. That’s it? Have faith?
Nana Mae smiled. “Sounds too simple, doesn’t it? I’ve lived fifty-nine years longer than you. Trust me on this one, Joseph. Have faith. What’s meant to be, will be.”
“I like simple,” he said, already feeling a little more peaceful. “You’re a very wise woman.”
“I’m like everyone else. I gained wisdom by figuring out how to fix something I broke. You will, too.”
He fixed her a pot of tea, shared Christmas cookies and a game of Yahtzee with her. And when he went home, he slept, long and well.
He had faith.
Chapter Seventeen
“Free haircuts for a year, that was the deal, I believe, Ms. Callahan,” Kincaid said, polishing a chrome towel rack in the sparkling new salon, Respite. It was Saturday, the day before Valentine’s Day, her target date to open for business.
“As I told you three months ago, Mr. Kincaid, you got ’em for life,” Dixie said, admiring the room. It was everything she’d dreamed of—and then planned for. “You’ll be here during the grand opening later?”
“Definitely. I haven’t done a lot of commercial work. It’ll be good to show off what I can do.” He gathered up his toolbox for the last time. “So. Today the grand opening. Tomorrow, your first wedding party and Valentine’s Day. Any plans for yourself?”
“A full night’s sleep?” She grinned. “Mom and Dad are leaving town today—and I’m done filling in for them. They’re finally going to trust Doug. And Mom convinced Dad to let Shana and Emma stay at the house, even though he’s still not talking to her. So, I’ll finally have some time alone.”
“It hasn’t been easy.”
“Not for any of us, frankly. But Shana’s getting more work through At Your Service all the time. She’s saving for a deposit on an apartment. It’ll work out. It’d be good if Emma could have one day-care provider instead of being farmed out to various volunteers, but that’ll happen, too. If Shana was living in Sacramento, she’d have more work but less child care available, at least for free. She’s holding up well, though.”
“Good. I’ll leave you to enjoy your space for the hour you have left before you officially open the doors.”
“Okay. Thanks. Really, Kincaid, thanks for everything. I can’t begin to tell you.” She choked up.
“I only facilitated, Dixie. It was your vision.” He headed to the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m showing the house this afternoon. These people have been prequalified, so if they like it, chances are the sale will go through, unlike the other times. Now that Joe’s going to be gone for at least six months, it’d be nice if it worked out this time.”
Dixie felt gut-punched. Six months? What? “What do you mean, he’s going to be gone?”
Kincaid’s jaw twitched. “I’m sorry, Dixie. I assumed you knew.”
She shook her head. And apparently she was the last to know, if even Kincaid was in on the news.
“I heard he got a job overseas somewhere. See you,” Kincaid said, making a quick exit.
Overseas? Why hadn’t she been told? And what kind of a job would take six months? The world’s largest compost heap? Going for a Guinness-book record?
How could it have stayed a secret? Even though she and Joe had been communicating through Kincaid the past six weeks, didn’t she deserve a call about a momentous event like this?
She’d seen Joe several times since they’d said goodbye, but they hadn’t spoken. She’d buried herself in work, feeling stronger every day.
Until now. Until hearing he would be gone for six months. Overseas. She wouldn’t even hear any gossip about him. Nobody would. Whatever he was doing, he would be there long enough to meet someone he could get serious about. Fall in love with.
She’d known the day would come. She hadn’t known how little prepared she truly was for it. She’d only hidden her feelings behind work, exhausting herself.
Dixie prowled the rooms of Respite, looking for the calm that the advertisements promised. She scanned the open front room with four chairs and three sinks, was pleased with the manicure/pedicure station in the back and the elegant products display up front. She moved on to a separate area with dryers, the private rooms for massages and facials, a dressing room for brides and bridesmaids, with makeup stations. There was also a quiet room, and a spa tub that held two clients.
She’d found great people to work for her, even backups for when necessary, had made arrangements with two local bed-and-breakfasts to put together package deals.
Dixie felt prepared and raring to go—and vaguely dissatisfied, now that she was done. It was normal letdown, she knew that, but it surprised her, anyway.
It probably had more to do with the news about Joe.
The bell on her front door tinkled. “Dixie? Are you here?” someone called out.
“Hey, Sharlene. How’s the bride-to-be?” Dixie asked, shaking off her gloom as she moved into the main salon.
“Nervous. Excited. And it’s not going to rain!” The twenty-year-old redhead flashed a bright smile. “Is it all right if we bring in the gowns now and leave them here overnight? My aunt is going to steam them, and we thought it would be better to do it here and leave them hanging.”
“That’s a great idea. Plus, having them on display in the bride’s room will show people the possibilities.”
“Everything will be locked up tight, right?”
“I’ll sleep in that room tonight, if it’ll make you feel better, Sharlene.”
“Okay!” She laughed then. “I’m kidding. Just nervous about everything. Aren’t you? I mean, about the opening? Everything looks beautiful.”
“Thanks. I’m not nervous, but I am anxious for everyone to see it all done. And hopeful that there will be enough business to keep it afloat.”
“Well, you can bet that I’ll be telling everyone to come here. I’d better run out and let my mom know we can bring in the dresses.”
“Have her drive around back. I’ll meet you there.”
Dixie’s day sped by. People came and went. Cookies and punch were devoured, compliments paid, appointments made. Dixie pai
d Shana and Caroline McCoy to take people on tours, to make subtle sales pitches, which resulted in the booking of two bridal parties and several husbands purchasing spa packages for their wives as Valentine’s Day gifts.
She’d done what she’d set out to do. It looked like the venture would be an initial success and word of mouth would keep it going at full steam. A lot of women—and men—who usually went to Sacramento for cuts said they would switch if she could keep later hours. She polled the other stylists, who agreed to work two nights a week until eight o’clock. Problem solved.
The last guest left. Shana gathered what remained of her belongings and went to their parents’ house for what would be at least a month.
Dixie was alone. She’d been running on adrenaline all day, and now it dissipated in a hurry, leaving her drained. Tears of exhaustion filled her eyes. She let them fall, acknowledging the value in doing so.
She checked each room, but Shana and Caroline had kept everything in perfect order. There wasn’t a punch cup or a paper napkin in sight.
Finally she moved into the bride’s room, where five dresses—one white, four Valentine-red—hung from hooks placed high enough that the gowns’ hems didn’t touch the carpet. One wall was completely mirrored.
Dixie used the sink to wash her face and hands then lifted the wedding gown down and held it in front of her, her red boots two bright spots at the hem. The design wasn’t one she would’ve chosen for herself, but it was perfect for the vivacious, petite Sharlene.
Dixie moved to put the dress away then spotted Joe framed by the open door. Her heart did a somersault—out of surprise but also because she hadn’t been so close to him since Christmas.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asked, lifting the dress up to its hook, aiming for nonchalance.
“A few seconds. Sorry if I startled you.” He came into the room. “I wasn’t sneaking around.”
“What do you want?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I just wanted to see the end result. It’s impressive, Dix. You did it.”
In more ways than one, she thought. She’d finished the salon, she’d broken free of her parents’ hold, and she’d almost gotten Joe out of her system.
Almost. She hadn’t quite made it yet, although not seeing him for six months should finish it for her. But right now she wanted to run into his arms.
“Kincaid said he was showing the house again today,” she said, wishing Joe would move so that she could get past him and into the main salon, where anyone who walked by could see in, where she had to keep her distance. She clenched her hands instead.
“I haven’t spoken with him.”
She stayed silent, waiting for him to tell her about leaving for six months, glad Kincaid had, even unintentionally, prepared her for the blow. She could keep her cool, offer her congratulations and let him think it meant nothing to her.
She had her own business now, her own success to worry about, after all.
And bills to pay. Big bills. Everything was dependent on her keeping the appointment books filled.
His phone rang. He looked at the screen, said “Kincaid,” then took the call. “Okay… Actually, I’m with her right now. I’ll call you right back.”
Joe looked down for a second. “Your lucky red boots were hard at work today,” he said. “Kincaid just got an offer—for the asking price.”
A lead weight dropped into Dixie’s stomach. “Suddenly, it’s real. No room for haggling. No reason to delay.”
“I know what you mean.” He hefted his phone. “So, should I tell him okay?”
What if they’re terrible people? she wanted to ask. What if they ruin the beautiful garden? What if? What if?
She had to know. “I need to ask him something first,” she said, then found Kincaid’s number and dialed. “Who’s making the offer?” she asked.
“The new youth pastor for the community church and his bride. They just got married. She was ecstatic about the garden. Apparently, it’s her passion.”
“Oh.”
Kincaid made a sympathetic sound, then added, “You can’t get a better offer.”
“I know.” She tipped the phone down. “Okay?” she asked Joe.
He nodded, but he looked as upset as she felt. It was stupid to feel so attached to a house, but it had barely been a shell when they’d bought it. They’d turned it into a home, a real home, transformed by loving hands.
But whatever tiny, niggling hope she’d had that he would change his mind about them getting back together was shot down by his agreeing to sell the house. That was the clincher.
“Let’s do it,” she said to Kincaid.
“They want a thirty-days-or-less escrow,” Kincaid replied.
“Thirty days or less?” she asked Joe.
“Not less.”
“Thirty days,” she relayed.
“Would you like to meet them?” Kincaid asked.
“Not me. Do you want to meet the people?” she said to Joe.
“No. Yes. Yes, I would.”
“Joe wants to.”
“We’ll wait for him here at the house,” Kincaid said.
“Okay, thanks.” She relayed the information to Joe, then they walked side by side to the main room. Her shoulder bumped his arm as they passed through the doorway. She felt electrocuted by the touch.
Not again. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She knew he’d said something, but didn’t hear him. “What?”
“I asked if you had a date tomorrow for Valentine’s Day.”
She was still annoyed that one simple brush of their bodies had sent her soaring with need for him, and even more upset that he hadn’t told her he was leaving the country. “How would I have a date, I’d like to know? All I’ve done is work. Work, work, work,” she said, gesturing to the room.
And you’ve been off having fun, she wanted to add but didn’t.
He held up his hands. “Sorry. I was just curious, that’s all.”
“Did you have something else to say, Joe?”
He hesitated, which made her heart pound again, in a way that Edgar Allan Poe would write about. Thunderous. Ominous.
“I need to get to the house,” he said. “’Bye.”
Just like that he was gone. Without telling her he was leaving the country. Completely leaving her out of his loop, as if she didn’t matter.
She felt like throwing things, but went upstairs instead and grabbed a carton of mint-chip ice cream from the freezer and a big spoon.
She was halfway through it when the phone rang. What now? She wanted to be left in peace, to wallow, even though she should be celebrating.
But she answered it, because it was impossible for her to resist.
“Dix? You need to come meet these people.”
“No.”
“Yeah, really. You do. Come now.” He hung up, leaving her no chance to say no again, more vehemently.
And rousing her curiosity.
She shoved the ice cream back in the freezer, put on some fresh lipstick to meet the people she had no interest in meeting, then headed to her house one last time. Again.
Chapter Eighteen
Dixie didn’t see any vehicles except Joe’s truck when she reached the house. She parked out front, trying to mask her irritation that he’d made her come here. She would meet the new owners soon enough. She wanted time to get used to the idea first, not put faces to them.
She stalked up to the front door. Was she supposed to knock? Wouldn’t the people think that was strange? She would.
She reached for the knob. The door opened.
“Hi,” Joe said, giving her room to get past him.
She looked around. “Where is everyone?”
“I want you to keep an open mind, okay?”
What? Why? What could be wrong with them? She couldn’t voice her questions out loud, for fear of being overheard, but she craned her neck to look down the hallway, seeing nothing. No one.
“What’s going on?” she wh
ispered. “I don’t see anyone. Where are the buyers?”
“They’re here.”
“Where? Are they in the garden?”
He took her hands. She tried to pull back.
“No. They’re right here,” he said, holding tighter.
“Here? You mean us?”
She’d never seen him like this, so strangely calm yet anxious. She didn’t know what his game was, but she didn’t want to be lured into bed again. She would resist him this time. She was well on the road to recovery over him and absolutely would not give in to him—or her own needs—again.
She couldn’t let him think he could come home from a trip and find her available every time. His next trip would be for six months!
“I can’t do this again, Joe.” She pulled free and headed to the door, grabbed the handle. She could not sleep with him again. “I can’t.”
“Can’t do what? Can’t marry me?”
She stopped dead. “What?”
“This isn’t how I planned it,” he said, coming up beside her. “I know I blew the big romantic moment. Turn around, please.”
She couldn’t have heard him right. Marry him? How could that happen?
“Your hands are cold,” he said, rubbing them between his. “I love you, Dixie. There’s never been another girl—woman—for me. I can’t stand the thought of being away from you ever again. I want to marry you, and have babies with you and live right here in Chance City, where we belong.”
“You do?”
He nodded.
“But…”
“But what?”
She was totally confused. He was saying what she’d wanted to hear for such a long time, but it didn’t make sense. “You told Kincaid to accept the offer.”
“I rescinded it. I don’t want to live anywhere else. We can add on or build another story. Do whatever we need to make it work for us. Because it’s our house, Dix. We need it.”
“But…what about your business?”
“I’ll look for someone to join forces with me. We can share the load, each of us traveling less.” His expression was earnest. “I’ve found I don’t need as much change as I thought. Everyone told me to go and enjoy myself, to let go of all the responsibility I carry around. But I found it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Some things are ingrained, you know? Without it I feel a little lost.”
