by Nicole Ellis
“Can I help you?” a woman asked. “Are you looking for something in particular?”
“Not something, but someone,” he said. “I was hoping to talk to Charlotte, and her brother said to come here.”
“How do you know Charlotte?” She peered at him keenly, as though trying to figure out if he was friend or foe.
“I grew up with her. Parker and I are best friends and I’ve recently moved back to town.”
“Ah. You must be Luke. Gretchen mentioned you were moving here.” She beamed at him. “I’m Dahlia. This is my bookstore.” She held out her hand to shake.
“I am Luke.” He smiled at her and took her hand. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Come with me. I’ll show you where Charlotte’s apartment is.” She led him through a door into a back room and pointed at the open stairs. “She must be home because the bottom door is open. She usually shuts it when she isn’t here.” She turned to leave. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. Thank you,” he called after her. Then, he eyed the stairs. Dahlia had assumed that he and Charlotte were friends, but after their exchange earlier, he didn’t think he could call the relationship between them friendly. With any luck, he’d be able to change that with this visit.
He tromped up the stairs and knocked at the closed door at the top.
“It’s unlocked,” Charlotte called out.
He entered a small living room and kitchen, where Charlotte was stirring something on the stove top. Whatever it was smelled wonderful, with aromas of garlic, onion and some sort of meat. Somehow though, he didn’t think he’d be getting an invitation to stay for dinner.
She stirred the pot once more, set the wooden spoon down on the counter and turned to face him.
“Oh. It’s you.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, sorry.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you were Dahlia.”
“She let me in and told me where I could find you.”
“I’m going to have to talk with her about letting strangers in,” she grumbled.
“Don’t be mad at her. I told her we knew each other from when we were kids and that I was Parker’s friend. She just assumed that you and I were friends too.”
“We’re not.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry about what I said earlier. It was wrong of me to make any assumptions about how you run your business, and I understand why you’re upset about me moving my food truck onto the same lot as your shop.”
“Uh-huh.” She removed a pitcher of water from the fridge and refilled a glass on the table, then sat down in one of the two seats. Although it was warm in the apartment, she didn’t offer him anything.
He sat down across from her anyway.
“I really am sorry. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I signed a lease already. And if it wasn’t me moving in there, it would be someone else.”
She eyed him. “Another retail shop would be fine. It’s the barbecued food—and you—that I object to.”
He pushed his chair back, accidentally bumping the table with his too-long legs. The table shook violently, causing the full glass of water to wobble too. He managed to catch it before it fell off the table, but not before it tipped fully on its side, spilling the contents over the edge of the table, directly into Charlotte’s lap.
She gasped and jumped up when the icy water hit her. “Seriously?”
All he could do was stare at her, still holding the empty glass. “I’m so sorry.”
She looked down at her lemon-yellow t-shirt and jeans that were now completely soaked.
“Let me help you.” He grabbed a dish towel off of the oven door and moved toward her.
She held her hands in the air. “I need to change.”
He mopped up the water and wrung out the dish towel in the sink, setting the wet cloth next to it on the counter. He’d cleaned up the mess, but now what? This apology wasn’t going so well.
She was still ensconced in her bedroom with the door tightly shut, but paintings leaning against the living room walls caught his eye. He moved closer to examine them. Most of them were outdoor scenes of places he recognized in the area. She was a talented artist. Any of them were pieces he’d love to have in his own home. An easel was set up in the corner, with an unfinished canvas on it.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she opened the door and caught him checking out her art.
“Did you paint all of these? They’re beautiful,” he said in response.
Her expression softened. “Yes, they’re mine. But why are you still here after drenching me?”
“I didn’t get a chance to apologize for that—or to make you understand that I didn’t mean what I said earlier. If we’re going to share that space, we need to at least have an amicable relationship.”
“We’re not friends,” she said stubbornly.
“I know.” He moved around an end table that was covered in unopened mail. “But Parker’s my best friend and you’re his sister, so for his sake, let’s call a truce, okay?”
“Fine.” She spun around and hurried to the stove. “My stew is going to burn. You can see yourself out.”
He opened the apartment door and an orange and white cat flew past him down the stairs and through the open door at the bottom. Where had he come from? He had a bad feeling about this.
“Uh, Charlotte?”
“You’re still here?” she said without turning around.
“Do you have a cat?”
She whipped around. “Yes, Alistair.” She scanned the room frantically and narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you let him out?”
“Maybe?” He winced. Yeah, this wasn’t good. “He came out of nowhere and took off down the stairs.”
“And you didn’t stop him?” She flicked the burner off and pushed past him.
“Alistair! Alistair!” she called out. “Dahlia’s not going to be happy if he’s loose in the bookstore. She let me adopt him from the Humane Society and have him here, but she’s not keen on him being in the store.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said helplessly as he followed her down the stairs to the storeroom. “I think I heard something in there.” He pointed to a half-open door.
Charlotte rushed over to the door and pushed it open slowly. She flipped on a light, revealing a small bathroom. A pitiful meow came from inside.
“Alistair?” she called softly. “It’s just me.” She went inside and shut the door on Luke. A minute later, she emerged with a ball of fluff pressed tightly against her chest. “Thank goodness you didn’t leave the back door open too. He’s still a little jumpy, which is why he ran when you opened the door.”
“I really am sorry.” He felt like he’d been saying that a lot lately.
She moved toward the stairs. “I know. You said that already.” She stroked Alistair’s fur and then walked up the stairs, calling over her shoulder, “Please make sure to shut the door on your way out.”
He sighed. He’d come here to fix things with Charlotte and he’d made things ten times worse. At this rate, she’d never forgive him.
5
“Chatty Charlie?” Maggie raised her eyebrows. She pressed her lips together as if struggling not to laugh, then raised her glass to take a sip of red wine.
Gretchen had no such qualms. She immediately burst out into laughter.
Charlotte fixed her eyes on her friend and Gretchen quieted. It was a Friday night and Off the Vine was close to capacity, but the three of them had managed to find a small table in a corner of the wine bar. A jazz quartet had set up across the room, but they hadn’t started playing yet.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. That’s hilarious. Parker never mentioned calling you that.” She grabbed a tortilla chip and dipped it into the creamy crab and artichoke dip.
“It is not.” Charlotte pouted. She’d grown up hearing Parker and Luke calling her that nickname. “I hate being called that.”
All around them, people chattered, but Charlotte couldn’t focus on anything other than Luke Tisdale. The man was infuriating. She hadn’t seen him in twelve years and he still saw her as a ditzy teenager.
Maggie reached across the table and patted Charlotte’s hand. “We’re sorry we laughed, right Gretchen?” She stared pointedly at their friend.
“No, not really.”
Now it was Charlotte’s turn to glare at Gretchen.
“Look, high school was so long ago. I’m sure both of you have changed,” Gretchen said as she reached for a stuffed mushroom cap. “He doesn’t still think of you as Chatty Charlie.” She fought to not laugh again and peered at Charlotte. “Why did he call you that anyway? Were you a really annoying chatterbox when you were a kid?”
Charlotte squirmed. “I’m sure I annoyed my brother and Luke, but they called me that because they thought all I ever did was talk and shop.” She took a sip of her wine and her lips puckered at the initial sourness. “I may have been slightly spoiled by my parents. In my defense, all of my friends were like that too.” It made her a little sick now to think about how entitled she’d been as a teenager. She leaned back. “But now that’s the only way Luke will ever see me.”
“Do you want him to see you another way?” Maggie asked, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. Beside her, Gretchen chortled.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant! I don’t see him as anything but my brother’s annoying friend.” Charlotte felt her face flame and fumbled for the correct thing to say. “Ugh. I’m not interested in him like that.” He’d been nothing but a thorn in her side since she’d found his food truck in her lot last week. It had been bad enough having that monstrous truck next to her shop, but once he’d fired up the smoker and began serving customers, things had gotten worse.
Still, she couldn’t help but remember how his skinny face and body had filled out since high school. While he’d been pretty nerdy then, any woman would find him attractive now. Correction—any woman but her.
“Uh-huh,” Gretchen said dryly. “I’ve met Luke. Parker and I had him over for dinner a few nights ago.” She turned to Maggie. “He’s not hard on the eyes.”
“You were just complaining to us that there weren’t many available men in town. Maybe this is fate.” Maggie grinned at Charlotte.
Charlotte’s skin crawled at Maggie’s suggestion. If having Luke reappear after all these years to laugh at her and ruin her business was fate, the world must hate her.
She shook her head. “Nope, I’m swearing off men. I don’t have time for dating right now. There’s too much going on in my life. Besides, Luke Tisdale is the last person I’d ever want to be with.” She shuddered. Her brother’s friend? Seriously?
Maggie smiled. “Char—I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to work with him. After all, you don’t have much of a choice.”
“Not true.” Charlotte shook her head. “There has to be some way to get rid of him.” With Gretchen as a real estate professional, she hoped she’d have an idea about how to make Luke move his truck to another space.
“I don’t see how,” Maggie said. “There isn’t much vacant land in town and that’s a prime spot.”
“He’s got a lease, right?” Gretchen asked. “You didn’t rent the whole space from Mr. Devine and he leased the other half.” She shrugged. “I think you’re stuck with him. That is, unless you want to move somewhere else. Isn’t your lease up soon?”
Charlotte stared at her in horror. “No! I was there first. Whimsical Delights is in the perfect place to get tourist traffic. He can move.” Her lease was up soon, but she had every intention of renewing it. Luke Tisdale wasn’t going to make her move.
“I would think that’s why he wants to have his truck there too,” Maggie said carefully.
Charlotte didn’t respond, instead choosing to open her menu. Inside though, she was fuming. She’d expected her friends to back her up on this, but they seemed to be taking Luke’s side.
Reading through the familiar menu, she felt a little calmer. While she read, her friends chatted with each other to give her space. Smooth jazz drifted across the room, helping her to relax.
She folded up the menu and set it down on the table before drinking some of her ice water. The chilly drink reminded her of Luke’s attempt to apologize that had turned into soaking her with water. She set the glass on the table and pushed it toward the wall, far away from her.
“How was the art show last week?” Gretchen asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since then.”
Charlotte felt a smile creep across her face. Although Gretchen liked to tease her, she always seemed to know how to make her feel better. “It was amazing. They loved my paintings, especially the one of the sun setting over the ocean.” The elation of having her artistic talents recognized at the gallery show rushed over her.
“Ooh, I love that one too,” Maggie said. “I’m happy they liked it.
Charlotte took a deep breath. “In fact, the gallery owner mentioned the possibility of me having my own show.”
“Really?” Gretchen set down her wine glass. “When?”
“He didn’t say, but I think sometime fairly soon.” Her smile slipped. If she wanted a successful show, she needed to start burning the midnight oil to have something to sell. Since she’d returned from her trip to Seattle, it seemed like everything she’d started was garbage. That was another negative point about Luke and his food truck. She’d been so caught up in being mad at him that her muse had flown the coop.
“Well, let us know when it is. We’ll all be there.” Maggie picked up the menu. “Now, does anyone want to order more food?”
“Me!” Gretchen said. “Let’s try something off the new menu items.” She gestured to a small sheet of paper attached to the front of the formal menu that Charlotte hadn’t noticed. “I think we should get that dessert to share too. I can smell the chocolate from here.” She pointed at a luscious dark chocolate torte that the couple at the next table over were digging into.
Charlotte reached for her menu and checked the new items. Although it was a minor thing, with all the changes in her life at the moment, something as simple as a menu change made her heart sink. Nothing ever stayed the same.
6
Blaring sirens from the town’s fire trucks woke Charlotte at three o’clock on Tuesday morning. She sat up in bed with a start and threw on her bathrobe, icy fear rendering her fully awake. The bookstore wasn’t connected to the neighboring buildings, and they’d added an automatic fire sprinkler system after a madman had set it on fire two years ago, but she still didn’t want to be caught unaware if the fire ripped through downtown.
She padded to the open window in her socks and looked out. Everything around the bookstore appeared to be fine, but she could still hear the sirens not too far down the street. She hurriedly slipped on a T-shirt and jeans and clopped down the interior stairs wearing sandals over her socks.
Although it was the end of May, chilly night air blasted her when she stepped outside. She grabbed Dahlia’s sweater from a hook by the back door and wrapped it around her body before walking down the street. She walked two blocks down Main Street and stopped at the next corner. Just down the street, the Bike Barn’s roof was afire, flames shooting skyward.
The firemen seemed to have it under control, so her apartment and To Be Read didn’t appear to be in any danger, but she stayed to watch. Saul, the owner of the Bike Barn, stood off to the side watching his business go up in smoke. Near him, several other people had gathered.
Her stomach twisted. As a business owner herself, she had an inkling of how this would impact him. The tourist season was in full swing and even if he could rebuild the store and order more inventory, he’d lose out on a few months of revenue at the very least.
She moved closer to the fire trucks.
“I’m sorry, miss. I need you to stay back,” a fireman said to her.
She nodded. The air was heavy with acrid smoke and the odor of burnin
g rubber from all of the bike tires Saul had kept in the store.
“How horrible for Saul,” a familiar voice said from behind her.
Charlotte turned to find Maggie standing there, shivering, with her bare arms wrapped across her chest.
She gave Maggie a quizzical look.
“Jake is on the night shift,” she said, referring to her fiancé, a police officer in Candle Beach. “He called to let me know about the fire, in case the Bluebonnet Café was in danger.” She cast a glance at her restaurant a block up from the fire.
“Ah.”
They both stared at the fire again. Orange flames licked at what remained of the wood structure.
“That place is Saul’s life,” Maggie said. “He moved here to start fresh after his wife died and he told me he used all of his savings to buy it. I feel horrible for him.”
“Do you think it’s a complete loss?”
“Oh yeah, look at that.” Maggie pointed at a beam leaning to the side. “His stock room was at the back, and it’s totally gone.”
The firemen were still spraying water at the building. She and Maggie were so close to the fire hydrant that they could hear the water rushing through the hoses before it shot out the nozzles and rained to the ground.
“At least it’s not too windy tonight,” Charlotte said, mesmerized by the fire. Although it seemed wrong to think it, she wondered if she could reproduce the colors of the flames on a canvas.
“I think they’ve got it,” Maggie said. “I’d better get back home. I woke up Alex and threw him in the car when Jake called, but he’s got school tomorrow.”
Charlotte nodded. “I should get back too.” She checked her watch. “I have to open the shop in five hours.”
