by Arlene James
“Won’t hurt to look,” Tate said, winking at Lily on his way to the dressing room to change back into his jeans. He was actually enjoying this. Lily’s eye for color and style had already influenced his choices more than she might realize. She’d passed right over the lighter summer colors and gone straight to the “classics.”
“Listen,” she’d said, “if you’re only going to have one good suit, it has to be a black suit. You can wear a black suit anywhere. Dress it up, dress it down, wear it with a vest, wear it without a vest, tie, no tie, collared shirt, T-shirt, any color, white… Everything else has limitations. With black, your options are unlimited.”
She’d apparently forgotten to mention that black looked expensive. That part he’d figured out for himself. When he came out, having handed off the suit to the clerk, she and Isabella had already picked out several shirts and ties for him to look at. The clerk brought over a sports jacket that would work with blue, gray and black. A Western style, it fit nicely without alteration. Tate bought the lot. While the clerk boxed and bagged and scribbled on his sales pad, Lily pulled Tate aside.
“I can’t believe you’re buying so much. Are you sure about this?”
“Why not?”
“The man who got married in blue jeans and a tuxedo jacket has turned into a clotheshorse?”
“The boy,” he corrected gently. “I got married in the same getup that I wore to the senior prom, by the way.”
“The prom. Really?”
“It was what all the guys were wearing, not that there’s anything wrong with it. I expect I’ll be turning up at church in jeans and a sports coat before long. It’s just that I’m well past the senior prom now.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? I married right out of high school. Graduated at the end of May, married the third of August.”
“I knew you were young. I didn’t realize you were that young.”
“I didn’t turn eighteen until the following September, and I was just short of twenty when she died.”
Lily shook her head. “From prom to marriage in a matter of weeks. I can hardly imagine it.”
He smiled, whispering, “I’m trying to imagine what you wore to prom.” Turning her to the full-length mirror in the center of the department, he let his gaze roam over her. He’d never seen a woman as well put together as her. Granted, her style wasn’t the usual sort. Soft with unexpected twists, unique without being shocking, artistic but entirely approachable, that was Lily, beautiful Lily.
“I didn’t go,” she said, locking gazes with him in the mirror. “Why would I? None of my friends went. Who wants to stand around in the shadows watching the girls with dates dance?”
He spun her around to face him. “What do you mean, the girls with dates? You mean no one asked you to your prom?”
She looked at him over the rims of her glasses. “To the prom? Tate, no one asked me out in high school, period.”
He clapped a hand to the nape of his neck, loudly demanding, “What is wrong with the guys in Boston?” She rolled her eyes, and he couldn’t help it. He shook her. Just once. Not very hard. “Don’t do that!” he hissed. Of course, by then, everyone in the area was staring at them, including Isabella, who had been sitting on the floor making faces into a mirror for footwear.
He cleared his throat. “Stop selling yourself short.”
Lily became very interested in the center of his chest.
“I was awkward,” she said softly, “and stupidly shy and skinny, so skinny my parents thought I was anorexic. They took me to doctors. It was embarrassing.”
“You’re not anorexic or stupid.”
“I know. I was skinny, and I was painfully shy. As much as I hated it, law school was good for me. You can’t get through it without learning to speak in public.”
“I’m sure that’s so,” he told her, “but you’re still a better florist than you were a lawyer, and I’m glad because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have come to Bygones.”
She smiled, and he turned to signal Isabella. “Let’s pay and go to the children’s department.”
He turned toward the checkout counter. “Maybe after we meet Kenneth and have dinner, we can find a movie to kill some time.” And he could put his arm around Lily without anyone noticing.
“That could be fun.”
And dangerous. This whole thing with Lily was dangerous and foolish. Why, he wondered, couldn’t he help himself?
* * *
They bought Isabella several new tops, a pair of jeans and a skirt. She declared it Christmas in July. Tate just said that he’d been putting off seeing to their wardrobes for too long. Lily wondered and said nothing, enjoying the whole exercise. They met Kenneth at the bank and completed the transaction concerning the van. Tate invited him to join them for dinner, but Kenneth declined, saying that he had to get back to Bygones and see to his mother and son.
After driving around town to take in the sights, they picked an appropriate movie and sat in a darkened theater, laughing at the 3-D antics of a cast of wisecracking animated animals. Lily was painfully conscious of the arm that Tate draped casually about her shoulders. Neither did the gesture escape Isabella’s keen gaze. Even while laughing uproariously, Isabella kept cutting her gaze at Tate’s hand, where it rested with such seeming innocence against Lily’s upper arm.
Lily couldn’t help wondering if Tate had changed his mind about marrying again. He certainly hadn’t changed it about having another child, and so far as Lily was concerned, the two went hand in hand. Sitting there next to him, she tried to tell herself that having her own baby wasn’t such a big deal, but she couldn’t make herself believe it. Why, she asked herself, did the one man who showed a genuine interest in her turn out to be the one man with whom she shouldn’t, couldn’t, let herself fall in love?
The movie ended, and they walked a yawning Isabella to the truck. Tate belted her into her booster, and it became obvious that she would soon be sleeping, so he left her and Lily sitting out in the parking lot while he rushed into the department store to pick up his tailoring. Isabella didn’t drop off immediately, however. She lasted long enough to embarrass Lily thoroughly.
“My dad sure likes you.”
Lily licked her lips, glad that Isabella couldn’t see the way her cheeks flamed, and tried to keep her voice even as she lightly replied, “That’s nice.”
“He bought ever’thing you picked out today,” Isabella pointed out, “and he come to church because of your rosebush.”
“No. No, now that was because of your birthday wish,” Lily said quickly.
“And he hadn’t never taken no other lady to a movie ‘afore,” Isabella declared.
Lily swallowed. “Well, that was just because we had some time to fill, and…”
“My dad sure likes you,” Isabella said again, around a yawn this time.
Lily didn’t know what to say next, so she said nothing at all, and soon, she could tell that Isabella was sleeping. Tate returned with his well-fitted suit and a quick, quiet smile.
“She fell asleep, did she?” he whispered.
Lily nodded, and he said no more. Starting up the truck, he drove them back to Bygones. Along the way Lily mused over the situation and came to a satisfactory explanation.
Tate had finally come to the place where he could let go of Eve and move forward. He had gotten back into church and begun to make his peace with God. One day perhaps he would be ready to love again. Then he would rethink his position on marriage and children. For now, he was being nice to her, maybe even practicing his flirting a bit. But that’s all it was. That’s all it could be. Unless…
But no. Unless led to castles in the air and foolish dreams. Unless had been her downfall too many times in the past. Unless would get her heart broken. She wasn’t going to do unless.
On the other hand, what could it hurt just to ask him what his intentions were? Hadn’t she prayed for God to help her be bold and do things? If she asked Tate what his fee
lings for her were now and he got a strange puzzled look on his face or, worse, an amused one, well, she would have her answer. The problem was, she didn’t think she could bear that answer. Not again. Not from Tate. All of which meant that it was already too late.
This time, she’d really done it. This time, she’d really fallen in love. And with the wrong man.
* * *
Tate guided the truck to the curb. He’d had the whole trip back from Manhattan to think about how to handle this, and he knew just what he wanted to do. First, he smiled at Lily. Then he held a finger to his lips, indicating that they should both be quiet so as not to wake Isabella. Next, he set the interior light switch so that the overhead lamp wouldn’t come on when the doors opened. Only then did he kill the engine and pocket the keys before carefully letting himself out of the truck and hurrying around to do the same for Lily. Keeping his hand on her arm, he led her to the apartment door beneath the canopy.
With very deliberate movements he slipped the glasses from Lily’s face, folded them and stowed them in his shirt pocket. He cupped her face in his hands, tilted her head, watched her pink lips part slightly, leaned forward and kissed her.
He kissed her until they were both breathless and he’d had all he could stand. Then he just laid his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and let his heart race until it slowed.
Strangely, the boy he had been with Eve seemed to have been better disciplined than the man he now was with Lily. He’d have to do some praying about that. No doubt of it. Straightening, he took her glasses from his pocket and handed them to her. She slipped them on shyly, her hair swinging forward as she bowed her head.
When she looked up again, he saw the questions in her eyes, questions that he knew she would not ask because it wasn’t in her nature to do so, questions that he would soon have to ask of her. But not yet.
He wanted a little more time. Maybe, if she loved him…if she loved him enough, he would get the answer he needed, and then maybe they could have a future together, her, him and Isabella. Just a little more time…
“Good night, Lily. Thanks for your help today.”
“Good night, Tate.”
She flashed him a gentle smile and slipped through the door. Grinning, he all but danced around to slide back behind the steering wheel. Just a little more time.
Meanwhile he and Isabella had some work to do at home. She should have a say, after all, in which of her mother’s photos remained on display and which were lovingly put away.
* * *
Leaning forward, Lily dripped mustard onto the plank table and the paper that had wrapped her hamburger. Tate reached past Isabella and across the table to mop blobs of yellow from Lily’s chin.
“I suspect we’re all going to look as if we’ve been shot with a mustard gun before we get to the midweek service,” he muttered.
Thankfully Lily had piled napkins in her lap earlier when it had become obvious that Velma’s cuisine was unusually condiment-rich tonight. The Dills were understandably upset by an act of vandalism that had occurred during the wee hours of the morning. Someone had overturned the picnic tables outside and thrown a trash can through a window, stealing several candy bars and a few bags of chips, all items easily reached from outside the store. Elwood had boarded up the broken window and Joe Sheridan had come around to investigate, but a real thief would have taken items of more value. The whole thing was both disturbing and puzzling. Tate couldn’t help feeling concerned. The town didn’t need this kind of foolishness on top of everything else.
“Why don’t you take off your new sport coat?” Lily suggested.
“Good idea,” he told her, getting up to stow it in the truck, which sat parked nearby. “Isabella, run inside and get us some more napkins.”
Obediently, she rose and went into the grill of The Everything to ask for extra paper napkins. Tate returned to the table to begin dismantling hamburgers and wiping them of their excess mustard.
“Velma must’ve had a mustard malfunction,” Lily said, passing him her burger.
“That’s not the only malfunction around here, if you ask me,” declared a feminine voice. Tate looked up in time to see Whitney Leigh, the reporter for the Bygones Gazette, carrying a stack of newspapers around the front of Tate’s truck.
“You come to investigate the break-in?” Tate asked, straightening.
“Why? Do you think it’s somehow related to the SOS Committee and the anonymous benefactor?”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re still beating that drum.”
“And I’m going to keep beating it,” Whitney insisted. “How can we trust someone who won’t reveal his or her identity?”
“Look, all I can tell you is that the town is in the clear.”
“That’s what you say now, but you haven’t read my latest column, have you?”
“No,” Tate admitted, “I haven’t.”
She held out a paper to him, but when he went to take it, she pulled it back again. Tate dug into his pocket for the requisite coins and passed them over. Whitney handed him a copy of the Gazette, turned on her heel and carried the remaining stack of papers inside the convenience store. Lily quickly reassembled the hamburgers while Tate came around to her side of the picnic-style table and opened the paper to the editorial column. Isabella returned with clean napkins. Lily wadded up the soiled ones while Tate made sure Isabella was eating before glancing over the column.
Whitney had interviewed a local attorney, Spense O’Laughlin, who lived in Bygones but practiced elsewhere. O’Laughlin had expressed doubt that the city could be liable for any debts incurred should one of the new businesses in town fail, but he had pointed out that they were dealing with several unknowns, not the least of which was the identity of the “entity” funding the grants.
“Do you know this O’Laughlin?” Lily asked Tate.
“I do. He voiced similar concerns to the SOS Committee when we consulted with him while drawing up the conditions for the matching grants, but we were as helpless to do anything about the situation then as we are now.”
“Very convenient, if you ask me,” Whitney said, returning without the burden of newspapers. Presumably she’d left them at the counter inside to be sold. “How is it that this benefactor is available to give business advice but can still hide his or her identity?”
“You already know that,” Tate retorted. “Everything is done by email.”
“Has anyone even tried to track that?”
“Presumably the committee signed an agreement with the benefactor agreeing not to do any such thing,” Lily said.
“That’s right,” Tate told her with a smile. His secret attorney knew a thing or two, after all.
“Well, I didn’t sign any such agreement!” Whitney declared.
“I don’t see what difference it really makes,” Lily said. “I think it’s all quite admirable. Whoever the benefactor is, he or she has done a generous thing, a good thing.”
“You would think so,” Tate told her, smiling. “You’re too sweet to assign ulterior motives.”
“What ulterior motives could there be?”
Tate shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think it’s suspicious that it’s kept a secret.”
Lily linked her arm with his. “Maybe you’re the mysterious benefactor and you’re just saying that to throw us off the scent.”
He smiled. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t have that kind of money, and I’m not that generous. Frankly, such a scheme would never have occurred to me. And if it had, I can’t think why I’d want to make a secret of my identity. Uh-uh. Not this guy.”
Thankfully Lily didn’t seem disappointed.
“It has to be someone around here,” Whitney said, “and I’m going to find out who it is if it’s the last thing I do.” With that, she turned and stalked away, her hands tight little fists swinging at her sides.
“Whoever it is,” Lily said, “I expect he or she has met his or her match. That is one determined woman.”
&nbs
p; “I expect you are right,” Tate agreed.
Just then Nancy Jacobs called to Isabella, asking if she’d like to help Bonnie watch her baby sister while she, Nancy, closed up the Snow Cone Cabin.
“Can I, Daddy?”
As she’d managed to eat over half of her hamburger, he let her go.
“We’d better eat our own burgers,” Lily said, reaching for hers.
Tate nodded, following suit. “You don’t think Pastor Garman will faint when he sees me walk into the church for the second time in the same week, do you?”
Her mouth full, Lily elbowed him then tried to eat while laughing.
Quickly finishing the meal, Tate gathered up the refuse and carried it to the trash barrel once more positioned beside the door. Elwood had weighted it with chains threaded through concrete blocks. Lily stood and brushed crumbs from her skirt. Isabella ran over to Lily, carrying Bonnie’s baby sister on her hip. The plump baby giggled, her fists wrapped in Isabella’s bright hair. Bonnie ran alongside, trying to free Isabella’s hair from her sister’s greedy gasp.
“Isn’t she cute?” Isabella gushed.
“She’s adorable,” Lily said, taking the baby into her arms so Bonnie could more easily disentangle her little hands.
“Let go,” Bonnie scolded mildly, finally succeeding in freeing Isabella’s hair.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to have a baby?” Isabella said.
“Oh, yes!” Lily agreed.
Tate froze in midstride.
“I love babies,” Lily went on brightly, juggling the baby higher in her arms. The baby reached for Lily’s glasses, but she neatly avoided her tiny grasp, laughing. “Oh, no, you don’t. I know all the baby tricks, and you can’t have my glasses, little miss.” She smacked loud kisses on the giggling baby’s cheek, while Tate stood frozen in place.
Seeing her now, he knew he’d been fooling himself, pretending that Lily could be content with him and Isabella. If he married Lily, of course she would want to have a baby of her own. For an instant Tate pictured Lily big with his child, her slender frame swollen with pregnancy. She would be as graceful and achingly beautiful as ever, her sweet smile hopeful and loving. His heart swelled with pride. Then fear shuddered through him, fear unlike anything he’d ever known.
