by Lyn Cote
“What?” That property covered acres and had been held by the family for over fifty years.
“I’m using the money to establish endowments for needy art students at several Christian universities.”
“But...I...” Jane stammered.
“I sold it to Cash.”
“Cash! But Cash builds condos in Chicago—”
“Not anymore,” Cash’s cool voice interrupted. He lounged in the arched doorway with Angie in his arms. The baby busily patted his nose with her small, pudgy hand.
Without thinking, Jane hung up the phone and turned. “You! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Lucy wanted to tell you.”
“How did you get her to agree to this?” Jane braced her hands on her hips.
“She called me. It was her idea.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. This is your doing, Cash Langley, and you know it. Why would you suddenly decide to move here after ten years of contracting in Chicago?”
“I didn’t tell you where to sell dresses. Why should you care where I build houses, Red?”
“This has nothing to do with business. You’re trying to take Angie away from me.” Her words were irrational, but she couldn’t help herself.
“You’re the one who took Angie away from me. You thought you could keep me a convenient seven-hour drive away.”
He went on. “Soon I can fly to Chicago, take care of business and be back in the same day—easy. Next month I’ll be starting Eagle Shores, a new subdivision just five miles from here. As long as Angie is here, I’m here to stay.”
Jane forced down tears. Cash had annihilated all her plans for limiting his involvement with Angie, more importantly with her. He was going to be in her life, no doubt daily. Her heart pounded and she felt lightheaded again.
Sensing tension, Angie whimpered.
“Give her to me. She needs me.” Jane held out her arms.
Cash released the baby reluctantly.
The kettle whistle pierced the angry silence. Angie shrieked. Jane quickly removed the kettle from the stove. The baby rubbed her eyes and whimpered again.
“Angie needs her bottle and nap.” Jane couldn’t keep the brittle snap out of her voice.
“All right, but I’ll be back tomorrow. And get this into your red head. Next month I’ll be moving into my family’s lake cottage permanently and you’ll be seeing me—daily,” he spoke her prediction. He turned from her.
In less than a minute, she heard her front door slam. Angie flinched and pressed her baby-soft cheek against Jane’s neck.
Only then did Jane realize she’d hung up on her grandmother. The distance between Eagle Lake and Chicago had been the only protection between Cash’s presence and her own peace of mind. How could her grandmother have erased the three-hundred-mile barrier?
Worse yet, Cash had made it plain he understood she hadn’t wanted him near. Guilt hit her hard. What’s happening inside me? Keeping Cash away from Angie is an awful thing to want. But she couldn’t deny the alarm she felt.
Angie rocked herself forcefully in Jane’s arms and began to howl. It was Angie’s way of announcing, “I need a nap now!”
While Jane performed the tricky maneuver of filling a bottle with formula and putting it to warm on the stove, she pressed the baby to her shoulder. She sang “This Little Light of Mine” to soothe Angie, but her own mind struggled with the implications of Cash’s move. Caught between the blades of attraction and panic, Jane was being sliced in two.
She didn’t want to feel this way, frightened and defensive. Cash was Dena’s brother, after all. She was not showing him even a hint of God’s love, the love that should shine through her. Surely in His wisdom, God would show her how to deal with her grief over losing Dena and the conflict over Angie. And only God knew how she would handle Cash’s move to town, where he could drop in at will and break her heart every day of the year.
Chapter 3
In early June Jane looked up as her shop bell rang. Rona started talking as the door closed behind her. “Jane, I’m so glad you’re here.” As usual, Rona allowed Jane no chance to greet her. “I came in to see if you were coming to the Jaycee’s dinner tonight at our restaurant—”
“Mom...I told you.” Carmella had followed in her mother’s wake. “I already made out the name cards. She’s made her donation and reservation—”
Rona stopped her daughter’s words with a look that sizzled like hot grease in a skillet.
Jane closed the cash register and eyed Rona with suspicion. “Okay. I’ll bite, Rona. What’s his name?”
Rona pouted. “I don’t know how you always know—”
“We should elect you town matchmaker and pay you a salary. Who is he?” With an unhappy premonition, Jane lowered her voice, “I hope it isn’t Roger Hallawell?”
“Mom,” Carmella whined. “We’re going to be late for our dentist appointment. That’s why I took today off, remember?”
“This was my day to work, Mel,” Tish said to Carmella as she came from the back of the store. The two girls glared at each other.
“So what, Le-ti-ci-a?” Mel demanded, emphasizing each syllable of the other girl’s full name.
Tish retorted, “Car-smell-a, this is my day to work.”
“Tish, go down in the basement and price those new skirts please,” Jane said smoothly.
Tish turned with a toss of her blond mane and Mel made a face at her back. After playing referee between these two for almost a month, Jane wanted to scream with frustration.
“Carmella, wait outside please,” Rona requested in a saccharine tone. Though obviously put out, the girl obeyed without comment.
“Jane, you know what her father said, if she tries to get away with any of her tricks here, fire her. If she acts up, she deserves to bus tables another year. Anyway, you will be sitting next to Roger Hallawell. He’s the best catch around. I won’t rest till I’m throwing rice at you.” Standing outside, Carmella tapped on the window. Rona looked down at her watch. “I’ve got to go!”
As she watched Rona and Mel rush down the street, Jane shook her head over her friend’s unwanted meddling. Romance with Roger Hallawell was the last thing on Jane’s agenda.
Bing. Bing. The sound from the activity center attached to the inside of Angie’s playpen caught Jane’s attention. She walked over and beamed down at the baby. “Did you wake up, sweetheart?”
Jane bent and lifted Angie out. “You’re such a good girl to take your nap while all the ladies come in and gab about dresses. Do you want to go to Grandmother’s?” Angie clapped her hands. Jane kissed Angie’s chubby cheeks and carried her to the rear of the store where a changing table sat. Just as Jane finished changing Angie’s diaper, Tish came up from the basement. “Are the skirts done?” Jane asked.
“Yes, the skirts are done,” Tish answered in a voice laced with ill temper.
“Tish, you may get away with your moodiness at home, but I won’t tolerate it here. Your parents told me that if you weren’t ready to work in a shop, not to hesitate to tell them. If I fire you, you’ll be back at DQ for the summer.”
Her cousin’s face blushed hot pink.
Both of them knew that while Tish’s parents doted on her, they insisted she work each summer to learn responsibility. And Jane knew it must be difficult for her cousin to attend high school where her own father taught, but Tish had to learn not to take her problems out on others, especially in a place of business.
“I’m going to Grandmother’s for about two hours.” Jane went on breezily, “Then I’ll be back. If you need any help, call me. Keep the cash drawer locked. Here’s the key.”
Tish slipped on the wrist key chain. Angie’s pudgy little arms reached for Tish, who often babysat her. Tish smiled and kissed Angie’s forehead. “Bye-bye, Angie.” Tish waved like a baby and Angie giggled at her.
Outside, Jane hooked Angie into the car seat. In Jane’s red SUV, they drove out of town onto the highway amid tall, green-leafed maple
s, dark green pines and white-bark birches. Up the progressively steep rises and around the final curve, she approached Lucy’s white cottage. Farther up the same steep hill on the left sat her parents’ summer cottage. Their house perched on a modest cliff over Lake Tomahawk, making it necessary to park cars below to the rear of the house.
As she stepped down from the SUV with Angie in her arms, the sighing of the wind through the high pines greeted her. Even in the shade of these statuesque pines, the heat and humidity of the summer day weighed her down, but her mood lifted, anyway. “We’re here, Angie.”
Angie grinned in reply. Jane climbed the long flight of steps to her parents’ back door. As arranged, Lucy waited for them just inside. “Hello, sweethearts.” Lucy kissed Angie behind her right ear and took her from Jane.
Angie grinned and patty-caked.
“Jane, help me with these.” Lucy turned and Jane tied the strings at the back of her grandmother’s favorite paint-flecked smock. Jane smiled in appreciation of the bright yellow cotton flowing gauze sundress under the smock. No old-lady colors for her grandmother.
Lucy led them inside. “I have everything ready here in your parents’ air-conditioned living room. I can’t believe we need air-conditioning! I’ve summered in northern Wisconsin all my life, and I’ve never seen anything like this year’s ninety-plus temperatures every day. And the storms!” She paused dramatically for emphasis. “I’d like to paint your portrait outside or in my cottage, but we’d just be miserable.”
Jane nodded. “It was already seventy-eight degrees at six a.m.”
“Hot or not, we’ve got a busy summer ahead of us, don’t we?”
Jane grinned ruefully. “My summers are always busy.”
“And profitable. You deal in living art! If a woman doesn’t leave your dress shop looking and feeling more lovely, more feminine, it’s her own fault.”
“Some people don’t think that’s very important.”
“Nonsense! A woman who feels good about herself is a woman who is kinder to others. All art should add to the joy of living.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Jane gave a mock curtsy. Praise from her grandmother, a long successful portrait artist, felt good.
“You’re welcome. But we have two August deadlines—”
“Two?”
Setting Angie’s diaper bag in the corner, Lucy gently released the baby onto the polished oak floor. The child crawled toward a box of blocks beside a tweed chair. With a block in each chubby fist, Angie banged them against the floor, then against each other. “Yes, in addition to the portrait of you for your parents’ anniversary, I’ve decided to paint a miniature of Angie for Cash to celebrate her first birthday.”
Envy leaped into Jane’s emotions.
“You would make a very poor poker player, Jane.”
“What?” Jane looked to Lucy.
“You’re still upset with me for selling my land to Cash.”
An avalanche of the recurring panic, which even the mention of Cash now created in her, landed in the pit of Jane’s stomach. She lifted her chin and said evenly, “It was your property. I had nothing to say either way.”
“That’s very true, but I know you’re unhappy about it. If you want to express your opinion, feel free.”
“It’s done. I accept it.” Jane, avoiding Lucy, kept her eyes on Angie.
“But you don’t accept having Cash so close, do you?”
The thread of anxiety over Cash’s intentions concerning Angie made Jane wince inside. “I’ve adjusted.”
“Do you think it’s right to keep Cash away from his niece?”
“No, of course not,” Jane said.
“You’ve been avoiding Cash a long time, you know.”
Jane felt another internal jab. Why are you asking me about this, Grandmother? “We’ve just not been involved in the same pursuits.”
Lucy came a step closer. “Are you still in love with him?”
Thunderstruck, Jane couldn’t speak. Shock undulated through her in wave after wave.
“Did you think you’d fooled everyone?” Lucy folded her arms in front of her.
“How?” Jane gasped.
“It began the night of your sweet-sixteen birthday party. After nearly everyone had left, Cash arrived. He was wearing a tux because he’d just come from some big charity ‘do’ downtown. The delicious way he looked I could have fallen in love with him myself. He gave you your birthday gift, a pearl ring—which you never wear—and then he kissed you. I saw your face and I knew he’d be the one in your heart.”
“It was just a schoolgirl crush,” Jane stammered. Lucy’s poignant description of the night Jane had lost her heart to Cash brought sights, sounds of that long-ago night cascading through her. That night, for the first time, she had experienced love, love so new, so innocent...so doomed to disappointment. To Cash, she would always be a kid, “Red,” Dena’s pal.
“You’re telling me you don’t have those feelings for him any longer?” Lucy appraised Jane with her steady gaze.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” The now-familiar tightness in her breast when coping with Cash’s new prominence in her life left Jane feeling constricted.
“It wasn’t the right time. You were still so young, it was merely a promise for the future.”
Jane shook her head and turned away. “You’re talking about ancient history.”
“All I know is—as a family—we fall in love and stay that way. Look at Tish’s mother. Estelle met Henry here the summer of her fortieth year. Never showed any serious interest in any other man. Six weeks later they eloped! Everetts never love moderately.” Lucy smiled.
Jane took a deep breath. “I’m not in love with Cash Langley.” Not if I can help it.
“Well, I wish you were.”
“What?” Jane turned to face Lucy. “Haven’t you always told me not to become unequally yoked?”
“I believe if Cash could break out of his icy shell by falling in love with you, a love of God would not lag far behind. He’s not a bitter man, just a man with a frozen heart.” As she went on, Lucy’s voice softened. “Cash deserves someone special. He’s been through so much.”
“Cash doesn’t want anyone—special or not.”
“Yes, and the one time he broke out of his reserve and he fell in love—”
“You don’t have to tell me. Anyone could have told him she was a disaster looking for a victim.”
“Don’t sound so hard, dear. It’s not like you. You know it’s hard for him to trust women after his mother abandoned his family.”
“That’s just an excuse. Dena fell in love, married and was very happy.” Talking about Cash made her angry, but talking about Dena choked Jane. She couldn’t go on.
“I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to upset you. But we must talk about Dena as naturally as we can, for Angie’s sake. Dena and John are at peace with God. Until we see them again, we must make them live on through our memories. For Angie.”
Jane nodded, held back tears by forcing herself to breathe normally.
“When I have a chance, I’m going to make that point to Cash. He must start talking to Angie about her mother. Until he moved up last week, Cash was only able to visit you and Angie on weekends. There just hasn’t been time, but there are a few other things I might mention, too.” Lucy leaned forward and returned to her original question. “Jane, you’re not still trying to avoid him, are you?”
Lost amid painful images of her lost friend, Jane asked, “What?”
“Are you avoiding Cash?”
“No,” Jane heard herself lie and felt guilt stain her cheeks. Grandmother, don’t go on asking questions I don’t want to answer.
“Well, good. I’m glad that’s settled. It’s nice to know everything’s running so smoothly for you.”
The tinge of irony in Lucy’s voice, and Jane’s own conscience, made her glance quickly into her grandmother’s face.
Lucy glanced at her large Mickey Mouse watch. “Let�
��s get started.” They checked on Angie, who rolled cheerfully onto her stomach and crawled to an oak basket near the stone fireplace. The baby girl puckered her forehead as she began to take one pinecone out of the basket at a time.
“That’ll keep her busy,” Jane murmured. Finding out Grandmother knew, had known for years, about her secret feelings for Cash made Jane feel exposed. Her deepest secret had never been a secret to her perceptive grandmother. Had anyone else guessed? Cash must never know. It would give him another weapon against her.
Lucy gestured for Jane to sit down on a white wicker chair near the picture window overlooking the lake. Switching on several recessed lights and a few pole lamps, Lucy directed them toward Jane. Back at her easel, Lucy hummed softly and took up her palette.
At Lucy’s request, Jane wore her favorite pair of blue jeans and peach, short-sleeved blouse with white collar and cuffs. She knew better than to question her grandmother’s choice, but still she didn’t feel right posing in faded jeans for her very feminine mother, who still preferred wearing skirts to slacks. “Did I wear what you wanted?”
Lucy halted her preparations. “Look at yourself against the background. You have an artist’s eye.” She stepped behind the easel.
Jane scanned herself and her surroundings. Peach and white to emphasize her redheaded coloring. Denim against the white wicker, the faded flowered-print cushions, and natural birch paneling created a casual, homey effect.
Lucy held her palette in her right hand and her palette knife in her left and began to mix colors.
Still tense, Jane sat down on the chair. In the peace punctuated by the sounds of Angie’s contented play, Jane concentrated on the swish of the brush in paint and the frequent clack of the palette knife striking wood. The scents of paint and turpentine, forever linked with Lucy in Jane’s mind, permeated the room. The familiar, tastefully decorated, but homey living room wrapped around Jane like a comfy shawl on a cool evening. In an uneven rhythm, Angie banged wooden blocks together with gusto.
Jane relaxed. “I’m glad you thought of painting my portrait for my parents’ anniversary. When I say they’ve been married thirty-five years, it makes them sound old, but they never seem that way to me.”
