Town Square, The

by Miles, Ava

  He glanced over and winked at old Mrs. Withers, whose mouth dropped open when she realized she’d been caught staring.

  “You’re terrible,” she managed with a laugh, resuming her picture–perfect posture.

  “Sometimes,” he responded, his gaze resting on her face. That face with skin so bright and clear it reminded him of the clouds on a summer day in Wildflower Canyon.

  They grew quiet.

  Bertha finally brought their food. Harriet picked at her steaming roast beef while he went straight for the creamy mashed potatoes, his favorite.

  “My mother died when I was eight,” she said as she forked the green beans. “My dad dove into his work more after that. Before, I remember us all laughing, and him working less.”

  Reaching across the table for her hand would only cause more talk. He put his utensils down to show he was paying attention. “I’m sorry.”

  She smoothed some curls behind her ears. “Me too.”

  They continued to eat and talk, sharing stories from the past. He started to see a fuller picture of who she was and still knew there was so much more. But they had time. She was staying in town until she and her sister decided on their next steps.

  And even while he told himself to protect his heart from the woman across from him, somehow he couldn’t. He’d always known when a risk was worth it, and there was no question that she was.

  He stole looks at her often enough that he noticed when her eyes widened. He looked over his shoulder to see Vera Henry digging a toothpick into her front teeth like she was digging for clams.

  “Ah, people around here like their toothpicks,” he said, clearing his throat to cover up his laugh. So far as he could tell, no one used toothpicks out East, especially women and certainly not in public.

  “Apparently,” she managed and snapped her red–painted mouth closed.

  “Just another difference between Dare and the big city.” He fished a toothpick out of the white plastic holder next to the horseradish jar and extended it to her. “Are you sure you don’t want to try it? My dentist swears by them.”

  Her mouth twisted like she was fighting a smile. “No thank you. My toothbrush seems to do the job just fine.”

  He shoved one into his mouth like his dad did after every meal and flashed her a smile. “You’re missing out.”

  And then she laughed, the sound like a train whistle, bold and yet oddly sweet. “You’re incorrigible.”

  They enjoyed the banana cream pie, and he discovered she liked to bake, especially around Christmas. She told him stories about learning from their maid, Joanna, who’d been like a mother to them after their own had passed. She still wrote a letter to her every week.

  After he paid the bill, he escorted her through the tavern. None of the other patrons had left their tables, toddling over more than one cup of coffee. No doubt about it—they’d stayed to see if Dare’s own Arthur Hale was under the lure of the mysterious city–spun outsider. Many wouldn’t be happy about that.

  Like he cared.

  And wasn’t that putting the cart before the horse?

  He drove Harriet to Hawk’s Point Bluff since the moon was nearly full, and he didn’t want to take her home just yet. Even though it was cold, he asked her if she wanted to walk down the snowy path with him.

  “I will if you make sure I don’t fall,” she replied.

  He promised he wouldn’t, hoping she realized he was also making a promise to be there for her.

  With his arm around her, they walked the six yards to the edge of the bluff. The moon illuminated the snowy blanket covering the earth. The pine trees cascading up the side of the mountain waved darkly in the breeze.

  He turned to her then, and the moonlight covered her face, starkly illuminating the angles of her cheekbones, which called out to be traced by his fingertips.

  “Harriet,” he murmured, caressing her delicate skin.

  “Hush,” she whispered and stepped closer.

  He kissed her in the moonlight and let the moment be enough.

  Chapter 11

  Working with Arthur during the day and then going to dinner with him most evenings provided an ongoing opportunity for Harriet to discover that there was so much more to him than she’d first imagined.

  As the weeks passed, winter still clung to the trees in the form of snow and ice, and the breeze felt like it was issuing from an automatic fan over a block of ice. According to the people she talked to at the market and the Five–and–Dime, the groundhog had seen its shadow, and sure enough, spring felt like a distant memory.

  Arthur made the most of it on one Saturday in early March, agreeing for once not to work all day at the office. They were having an outdoor date since they’d already seen the new movie that had arrived in Dare, Frank Capra’s Pocketful of Miracles with Betty Davis and Glenn Ford, which would be showing for the next month.

  Their staff was growing, and Arthur was busy training the new hires and planning for the launch of the paper. They had five reporters now, Arthur’s deputy, an advertising manager, a bookkeeper, a financial manager, a typesetter, and the head of distribution. The new printing press had arrived, along with the large news rolls and tubs of ink, and had been assembled in the old factory. Arthur and the typesetter were getting familiar with its quirks by doing dry runs. And the distribution manager, with Arthur’s guidance, had been working out the best routes to get the papers out to Denver and other major cities. High school students in Dare had been hired to go door–to–door to ask for local subscriptions.

  Arthur had also been making visits to Denver, Las Vegas, and San Francisco, talking with the bigger newspapers, hoping to run articles from The Western Independent, including his Sunday editorials, in theirs from time to time. With Emmits’ connections, he was collecting national subscriptions right and left.

  “I’m not sure snow–shoeing was the smartest idea you’ve had,” she commented as her snow–shoe sunk into the powdery snow again, throwing off her balance for the hundredth time.

  He looked back over his shoulder, his blue eyes twinkling. “You only need to walk faster. If you lug through the snow, you’ll fall. You need to stay light on your feet.”

  Right. With two shoes that looked like large wooden tennis rackets secured to her feet with rawhide. Yeehaw.

  He had to outweigh her by fifty pounds, and he looked a heck of a lot lighter on his feet. It was enough to make a girl jealous.

  “This view had better be worth it,” she complained, her face and lips becoming chapped by the wind.

  “Have I steered you wrong yet?” he asked, his arms pumping as he walked across the snowy basin.

  “No,” and the words hung between them as he stopped and waited for her to catch up so he could hold her hand.

  Then he stepped close and framed her face. “I can’t wait. I have to kiss you. Right now.”

  His cold lips touched hers, and inside, she felt the now familiar desire race through her from head to toe. Suddenly the sun felt too hot, and she too warm. As his lips caressed hers and then shifted to kiss her cheeks and eyebrows before moving back to her mouth, she took a step closer and sank into the snow three feet in front of him. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his waist, and she was clinging to him out of something other than passion.

  Laughter bubbled out easily. “What’s with me? I weigh less than you do by a mile, and I keep sinking.”

  His hands fit to the outside curve of her breasts, and he slowly pulled her up. “Perhaps there’s another reason you’re sinking.”

  As she looked into his blue eyes, a blue that now reminded her of the ocean near her old home, she realized that no truer words had ever been spoken.

  She was sinking. Into him. More and more every day.

  And was more than a little afraid of it.

  “So where were we before you fell to your knees before me?” he asked with a wink.

  His tone was playful, but she’d heard stories from other students at Wellesley about what it
meant to sink to your knees in front of a boy. But when she glanced up to meet his eyes, she could tell that he wasn’t implying anything more. Part of her was relieved, the mere idea making her blush.

  He’d kissed her and touched her through her clothes, but that’s as far as they’d gone. She knew he wanted her, and she wanted him, but they weren’t married, and she was terrified of getting pregnant. Which just showed how crazy desperate she’d been the night she’d tried to seduce him. Some of the girls she knew at Wellesley had gotten birth control pills in Boston, but even if she wanted to go that far with Arthur—which she wasn’t sure of yet—there were no such provisions in Dare. He hadn’t asked for more, but if the tight mouth he had when he pushed her away and said goodnight was any indication, she knew he was suffering.

  “I think you were kissing me,” she responded, ducking her face, suddenly shy.

  His brows quirked up, as they always did when he was teasing her. “Ah. How could I have forgotten? Let me see if I can jog my memory.”

  His mouth leaned in and bussed her cheek.

  “There’s nothing wrong with your memory.” In fact, it constantly amazed her. He was the most brilliant man she’d ever known.

  “But I want to get it just right,” he murmured against her mouth, nipping at the corners, making her clasp his back with her mitten–clad hands.

  “Arthur.” Even she heard the plea in her voice and was shocked by it.

  She said nothing more as he pulled her against his chest and fit his mouth to hers. They’d perfected the art of kissing each other, since that’s as far as they’d gone. He knew how to press his tongue against hers and then dance around it, inviting her to take the next pass with him. Once she did, he would edge back and change the angle of the kiss before coming back inside her mouth.

  As she fell under his spell, the winter clothes she was wearing started to feel hot and suffocating. Her body turned liquid, like an icicle in the full sun.

  When he edged back, he cupped her cheek and stared boldly into her eyes. As if he saw her and only her and wanted to look at nothing else for the rest of his life.

  “Bingo,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  She laughed shakily, trying to diffuse the desire shimmering between them. “That reminds me. I’ve heard you’re a wicked Bingo player.”

  He laughed, the sound deep and infectious in the snowy basin. “I am. I find out all sorts of information there. Be good for the Metro section of the paper when we launch. You should come with me sometime.”

  Taking his hand, she stepped back and squared her shoulders to continue their trek. “I might just do that.”

  The townspeople were becoming more accustomed to seeing them together, and while they were still watched with curiosity, she was either getting used to the attention or immune to it. When she was with Arthur, time stood still.

  “Maybelline just joined the church choir,” she absently commented. “She has her first solo tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful! I can’t wait to hear her,” he responded in that easy–going way of his.

  “She seems happier now that she has music back in her life,” she continued and then paused for a moment as a bald eagle flew over them, casting its massive shadow across the basin, its stark cry full of both longing and boldness.

  The awe she had for this place grew every day, from the deer she’d seen eating at the edge of the road to the moose that had lumbered across the path they’d been skiing on a few weeks back, prompting Arthur to laughingly declare that it was one beast he had no desire to mess with.

  “And what about you?” he asked suddenly. “Are you feeling fulfilled here?” He stopped again, stepping in front of her so he could touch her shoulder. “While there’s nothing wrong with being a secretary, I know it’s not your dream. What is your dream, Harriet?”

  Her head lowered, and she shifted on her feet. How could she tell him that she wanted to be a wife and mother? That she imagined spending her time helping out at her children’s school, the church, and the local garden club. Perhaps that’s why she liked Dare so much even though she still felt like an outsider. Her dad had wanted her to be a scientist, to pave the way for women in a male–dominated profession, and while she believed in equal rights, she didn’t want to sacrifice her family for it—like her father had.

  Her mother had stayed home, but Harriet didn’t remember spending much quality time with her. She’d been too caught up in the society set to bother with her children. Their maid had raised them, and Harriet didn’t want that to be true for her kids.

  “What?” he said gently, tipping up her chin. “What are you having such a hard time putting into words?”

  She cleared her throat, which felt like there was a frog in it. “Well, with a father who worked all the time, and a mother who was never home, I kind of dreamed about being a happy wife and mother and helping out in the community.”

  His smile started slow, but it soon spread across his face. “I don’t know why, but you still manage to surprise me. That sounds like a wonderful dream.”

  “You don’t think I’m wasting my talents?” she asked him.

  “Who told you that?”

  “My father,” she confessed, wishing she hadn’t brought him up.

  The tension between them wasn’t as intense as it used to be on this topic, but it was still there, on both sides. Hovering. Like waiting for thunder after a lightning strike.

  “Whatever you choose to do for you is the best thing. My mother raised us and helped out on the ranch, and I can’t think of one minute when she wasn’t using her talents. Perhaps I’m old fashioned, but it all starts at home.”

  She wondered again about what his family was like. Though his mother had popped by the office a few times, he hadn’t introduced her formally yet, and even she knew it was a big step. Especially since her background was still a secret.

  “I like that about you,” she said, her voice hushed.

  He framed her face and kissed her smack on the lips. “And I like that about you. Now, come on. We have some tracks to lay, or we won’t be back to the car before dark.”

  She rolled her eyes, not really caring if they reached their destination, but he really wanted her to see this surprise, so she trudged through the snow after him. About fifteen minutes later, a light bulb went off in her head. She realized that she sunk into the snow less if she made smaller steps with her shoes. Plus it helped her move faster. Modeling Arthur’s long steps had seemed the way to go, but he was taller, and it wasn’t her natural stride.

  With her newfound knowledge, she passed him for the first time since they’d set out over an hour ago.

  “Somebody’s found their rhythm,” he commented with a grin.

  “You betcha,” she added, using one of his favorite phrases, and kept moving forward.

  They trudged on in the silence, the late afternoon sun shining like a golden orb of fire above them, the blue sky as vast as the ocean.

  When they reached the edge of the forest, he took her hand, squeezed, and rubbed her cheek with his finger.

  “Best follow me now. We’re nearly there.”

  The cold penetrated her clothing more without the sun to warm them. A trio of deer darted off across their path, leaping through the woods with the grace of ballerinas departing the stage.

  As they broke through the next copse, Arthur halted. Harriet’s mouth fell open in awe.

  “Oh, my gosh,” she said, staring at the frozen waterfall ahead of them.

  A rock face of one hundred feet rippled with ice, ending in a frozen pool. The twists and turns of the ice gave the sight its own artistic magic, rather like the whitest, most translucent candle wax dripping down a pillar.

  “People climb the waterfall in the coldest part of winter,” Arthur commented. “But that time has passed. Spring is coming, and even the mountain can’t stop it.”

  She turned to him, placing a hand on his arm because she liked touching him that way. “Did you ever—”

>   “Some of my classmates might tell you I have, but I’m not confirming it.”

  Just thinking about him trying to climb that wall of ice terrified her. “I hope you have more sense now.”

  “I don’t feel quite the need to prove myself like I used to,” he said. “I’ve moved beyond that old George Mallory quote about needing to climb Everest ‘because it’s there.’”

  “I’m glad,” she replied, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind blew.

  He stepped behind her and pulled her against him. “You cold?” he asked.

  “Arthur, you are not normally a man who states the obvious,” was her response.

  Nuzzling her ear with his nose, he laughed softly. “Then let me state the unobvious.”

  “Is that even a word?”

  “I don’t care,” he murmured, sliding his lips along her ear lobe, just under her stocking hat. “Do you want me to warm you up? How’s that for less than obvious?”

  Now she laughed. “I’d say, being a man and a woman, that couldn’t be more obvious.”

  He spun her around. “Oh, really? You might be right there.” Kissing her one more time, he grabbed her hand. “Then how about some ice skating?”

  She jerked away and dug her feet into the snow. “There is no way I am going out on a pool of ice when you can see bubbles of water under the surface.”

  Letting her go, he walked toward the pool and tapped the frozen pond with his snow shoe. “It’s still pretty solid. Folks stop walking across this pond come late March. We have a while yet.”

  “Arthur, please,” she said, because she’d heard about people falling through the ice this time of year.

  “Okay, Harriet. You win. But how about taking a closer look at the waterfall? That alone is a thing of beauty.”

  They walked along the edge of the pool, the snow covering the grass and wildflowers that would spring up again in another couple of months.

  He put his arms around her again and kissed her cheek. Holding her, they stood gazing at that austere tower of ice. Harriet realized that’s what she’d been when she had come to Dare, so determined to bring Arthur down and have her revenge.