Confessions of a Small-Town Girl

by Christine Flynn

  “Let me know what you decide,” he told her. Over the sound of voices in the room with him, he then gave her the number for the phone at the trailer so she could reach him there. “I’m here if you need me.”

  Thinking she needed him now, she thanked him, told him to take care and with his uncle asking if he was going to be much longer, reluctantly broke the connection.

  Go with your gut, he’d said.

  Poetic, the advice was not. Practical and wise, however, it definitely was. That pragmatic recommendation also made her acknowledge something her intuition had been nagging her to accept all along.

  Of all her options, Doug Westland’s offer probably held the most potential for disaster. She would be part owner of a business, which would be a plus for her, but that also meant she would be financially entangled with a man she honestly didn’t know how to read. If he truly was interested in her beyond a professional relationship, that relationship could easily suffer when he realized she wasn’t interested in anything beyond that with him. If he was just using his charm and dangling himself as bait to get her on board, then he wasn’t the sort of person she wanted to be in business with anyway. She hadn’t felt totally comfortable with him since he’d come on to her in his bar.

  When she reached him later that morning, all she told him was that she didn’t feel she would fit well in his organization, and that if she left her current position she would be leaving the state. He hadn’t sounded terribly happy with her. She, however, felt enormously relieved with that decision out of the way.

  Still going with her gut, she then put off her boss at the resort a few days longer by telling him she had to go out of town again and begging for a few more days’ vacation. She had the time coming and the restaurant and resort business was practically dead in Phoenix in the summer anyway. No one wanted to be there when temperatures spiked at over 110, and she had an excellent assistant who had no trouble handling the reduced volume.

  Ten hours and as many phone calls later, she had packed for a quick trip to Oregon. The owner of the mill there had been most gracious, considering that what she wanted to do was compete in his market, and agreed to meet with her the next morning.

  She kept waiting for some obstacle to fall in her path, for some thing to happen that would tell her that her gut was all wrong. Yet, nothing got in her way. In a little over two weeks, she had turned down the promotion at the resort and given her notice, sublet her apartment, worked out a purchase agreement with the bank, and sent most of her possessions east in a moving van. She had hesitated at the thought of a three-day car trip alone, but Amber had been up for a road trip so Kelsey bought her a ticket from Albany where she would drop her so she could catch a flight back. Armed with research on everything from grain grinds to market demographics, she loaded her clothes and a road map into her fuel-efficient little silver coupe along with Amber and the trailing ivy that had been her roommate for years, and headed for Maple Mountain hoping she hadn’t lost her mind.

  She knew her mother thought she had.

  “I still can’t believe you’ve done this. I know you said it’s somethin’ you’ve always wanted to do,” her mother conceded, as baffled as she was displeased as she lifted a blouse from Kelsey’s suitcase, “but if it was something that important to you, why didn’t you ever mention it? And how much thought could you have given it, anyway? You never said a word about the mill when you were here a few weeks ago.”

  It was after ten o’clock at night, and Kelsey had been home all of fifteen minutes. Not sure why she’d thought her mom might wait until morning to question what she’d already grilled her about on the phone, anyway, she followed the clearly agitated woman across her old bedroom.

  Using the elbow of her casted arm to hold the blouse to her side, her mom reached into the closet for a hanger.

  Taking the blouse, Kelsey tried for a temporary reprieve. “You don’t have to do this, Mom. You’ve been on your feet all day.” The last thing she needed to do was wait on her. “I can put these things away in the morning.”

  Ignoring her, her mother took the blouse back and deftly stuffed the hanger into a sleeve. “You know I don’t mind helping you,” she insisted, clearly intending to get her daughter in and settled before either of them went to bed. “But I do mind that you didn’t even talk to me about this.”

  If there was anything her mother possessed, it was tenacity. Until she got the answer she wanted, she hung on to a matter like a rat terrier with a new bone.

  “I did talk to you.” It was clearly futile to wish her mother would just accept what she had done. “I told you as soon as I realized it was actually going to happen.”

  “I know that. You told me. You didn’t discuss it with me at all.” Hurt shaded her tone. “What I don’t understand is why.”

  Heading for the suitcase on her bed, thinking she would have truly appreciated a night’s sleep before facing a showdown, Kelsey picked up a stack of underwear and turned to her old white dresser.

  “Because,” she said quietly, “I knew if I said anything to you, you’d try to talk me out of it.”

  Wood scraped as she pulled a drawer open and tucked the stack of pastel lace into the space lined with white tissue paper. Beside her, the door opened to a beige living room with maple furniture so old it was nearly antique and a brown plaid sofa with an orange afghan covering a worn spot on its arm. Her mom hadn’t bought anything new for her home in longer than Kelsey could remember. As frugal as she’d always been, Kelsey strongly suspected she didn’t buy anything new for herself, either, until she had to replace whatever it was she’d worn out. That was one of the reasons Kelsey always sent her pretty clothes for her birthdays and the sort of lotions and powders she’d never splurge on for herself.

  At that moment, she was wearing the turquoise caftan and slippers she’d sent her, along with a look of utter incredulity.

  “Well, of course I’d have tried to talk you out of it. This is the last place I want you to be, Kelsey. I love havin’ you here. And havin’ you around all the time would be wonderful,” she insisted, swiping at a strand of hair that had dared to come loose from her braided bun. “But I want more for you than you can have in Maple Mountain. I’ve always wanted more for you,” she stressed. “That’s why I made sure you got everything you needed to get the kind of opportunities you’d never have around here.” She shook her head, bewilderment firmly back in place. “Now you’ve thrown away everything you’ve worked for by buyin’ that run-down old mill.”

  Her mother clearly had her best interests at heart. As much as Kelsey loved her for that, she also hated the guilt she felt for the way her mom made it seem she’d somehow turned her back on all that had been done for her.

  “I know what you want for me, Mom. And I appreciate that. I truly do. But I haven’t thrown away anything. I’m just using what I’ve learned in a different way. I can make this work. It’s just going to take a while.”

  “What about what you’re losing in the meantime? You’re almost thirty, Kelsey. I know girls are getting married later nowadays, but how are you goin’ to find yourself a husband at all? There are no eligible men around here. At least not any a girl would want. The Tanner boys are nothin’ but trouble and everyone else is either still fightin’ acne or wearing a pacemaker. You have no hope at all of meetin’ a man like those you’d meet where you just came from.

  “And who are you going to get to help you rebuild that place?” she went on, looking as if she wanted to pace, grabbing another blouse instead. “I know Sam’s workin’ on it for you now, but there’s no way on God’s green earth he can have it up and runnin’ before he leaves.”

  The thought that eligible men in the city weren’t necessarily prizes, either, was cancelled as Kelsey reached back into her suitcase herself. “Sam’s already working on it?”

  “He has been since last week.” Looking as if she couldn’t figure out why she didn’t know that, Dora hung the second blouse by the first. “Amos found ou
t about it when he was out that way and saw a lumber truck pull onto the old mill road. He thought the driver was lost since there’s nothing on that road but the mill, but when he got there, Sam was coming over to meet the guy. Sam told him you two had talked about your plans and that he was getting you started.”

  Some of the materials Sam had ordered for her had already arrived. Realizing that, Kelsey’s expression turned puzzled. She and Sam had talked a few times about what needed to be done and the supplies she’d require. They’d also talked about his sister, the boys and how his sister’s place was progressing. But he hadn’t said a thing about having started the work on hers.

  She was wondering why he hadn’t mentioned that when she realized her mom had gone silent.

  “Oh, Kelsey,” she said with a sigh. “Is he why you came back?”

  The absurdity of the question kept Kelsey’s attention on her unpacking. She could not, however, make herself meet her mother’s eyes. “I told you why I came back.”

  “You hardly know the man. You saw him a few times at the diner and spent a day with him and the Colliers.” Having summed up what she and probably everyone else in town knew of their relationship, her voice fell flat with mystified conclusion. “But you talked to him about your plans.”

  “Yes, I did.” They’d seen each other more often than anyone else realized and she knew him far better than anyone thought, but those weren’t points she cared to clarify. She especially didn’t care to clarify exactly how he’d become privy to those plans in the first place. “I’d always wanted to do something with the mill. And he liked my ideas.”

  “So he encouraged you.”

  “It’s more that he didn’t let me become discouraged.” In the process, he’d given her the impetus she needed to turn her life in the direction she knew in her heart she needed to go. “He helped me see that what I wanted was possible.”

  He’d given her back her enthusiasm, too. Her sense of…passion, she supposed. And for that she would be forever grateful.

  “So that’s it.”

  “That’s what?” Kelsey asked, absently.

  “This is his doing.”

  Frustration fought patience. Or maybe it was the other way around. Her mom wasn’t even trying to understand. She’d simply decided her daughter’s less-than-logical decision had to be someone else’s fault. Her offspring couldn’t possibly have made such a senseless choice.

  “It’s my doing, Mom. I told you, this is something I’ve wanted for a long time and I’ll never know if I can make it work if I don’t try.” It was obviously going to take a while for her mother to accept what she’d done. In the meantime, she truly didn’t want them arguing. A plea softened her tone. “I made this decision myself. I need to do it. And I’ve thought it through. I truly have,” she insisted, prepared to explain every step in that process if she had to. “Just don’t blame Sam. He’s only being a friend.”

  Given her mother’s present state of mind, Kelsey halfway expected her to say that a friend wouldn’t have allowed her to do such a thing. To her relief, her mother said nothing. She simply stood with her lips pursed long enough to make it clear she wasn’t sure what to do with her newly formed opinion, then told her she would go make them some chamomile tea. She was sure Kelsey was tired from her trip and that she wanted to get some rest.

  As grateful as she was that the subject had been dropped, Kelsey was willing to bet the new stainless-steel faucet and sink currently en route from Arizona that she hadn’t heard the end of it.

  She also had the awful suspicion that her mom wasn’t anywhere near ready to let Sam off the hook.

  Chapter Eight

  Kelsey overslept. As anxious as she’d been to get started on her new future, she had intended to be clearing out cobwebs and birds’ nests by the time the sun reached the tops of the trees. She’d inadvertently hit Off instead of Snooze on her travel alarm, though. Her mom hadn’t knocked on her door before she’d left for work, either. When Kelsey finally woke it had been nearly eight o’clock.

  Even running later than she’d planned, she felt good. Better than good, she thought, pulling herself together in record time and practically bouncing down the stairs. For the first time in years, she’d awakened in Maple Mountain knowing she didn’t have to leave. What had her nearly grinning, though, was that she was on her way to the mill. Her mill.

  Emerging in the storage room, she pushed open its inner door, stuck her head into the kitchen and turned her bright smile to the woman humming to herself at the grill.

  “’Morning, Betsy.” Curls permed tight and as white as the apron covering Betsy Parker’s tall frame were smashed flat beneath her hairnet. “Tell Mom I’ve gone out to the mill, will you? I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

  The sixty-year-old choir director and part-time cook smiled back and aimed her spatula toward the door. “’Morning, yourself, Kelsey. And she’s right there.”

  The door had blocked her mom from her view. Peeking around it, Kelsey saw her rinsing a tray of dishes to be put into the dishwasher. Steam from the long retractable sprayer billowed around her, turning her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. Her expression, however, appeared anything but rosy.

  Her greeting was succinct. “You should eat before you go.”

  Anticipation had Kelsey too excited to even think about food. Another reason existed for that eagerness, too. She was just afraid to let herself fully acknowledge it as her glance shot toward the service window to see who might be on the other side.

  “He’s been and gone.”

  Unnerved to know her mom was aware of who she’d been looking for, she didn’t acknowledge the comment at all.

  “I’ll grab something.” Thinking to placate at least one of her mom’s concerns, she snatched a fist-size poppy-seed muffin from the supply that would refill the pastry case and headed back to the door. On the way, she said goodbye to Betsy and brushed a kiss to her ominously unsmiling mom’s cheek. She wondered as she did if the kindly cook had already been privy to her mom’s displeasure with Sam.

  The thought dimmed the glow on her exhilaration as she hurried out and into her car. She knew her mother, though. Despite the fact that Dora tended to share her every opinion, she didn’t think her mom would be inclined to share this particular one. Not as bluntly as she’d shared it with her, anyway. She might mention that she saw the mill as nothing but a money pit that had already swallowed her daughter’s nest egg, but she would be careful with what she had to say about how she regarded prospects for her daughter in and around Maple Mountain. She stood to alienate too many of her neighbors, who were also her customers, if she did otherwise.

  Many of the locals claimed roots that ran generations deep in Maple Mountain. Those who did were fiercely loyal to their little corner of northern Vermont, and what was good enough for them was good enough for their young people. Many also regarded the cities that her mom had seen as her daughter’s salvation as alien civilizations that lured and robbed them of their progeny, so a little discretion on her mother’s part would serve her well.

  Kelsey headed down the narrow road, past the old-fashioned general store with its display of merchandise in the window, and the single pump gas station by the Maple Mountain Motor Inn. As she waved to Hanna, who was talking to Claire out by the inn’s mailbox, she did her best not let her mom’s attitude rob her of the anticipation wanting to be felt.

  She wasn’t sure when she had decided to drive to Sam’s sister’s house rather than going by the mill first. The practical part of her was anxious to see him because he would be helping her and she needed to know where to start. Another part simply wanted to see him again. Not that she was going to let that matter. Though it had been apparent enough when she’d left that he wouldn’t mind a physical relationship, she had no desire for an affair that was doomed before it began. Even if she hadn’t known all she did about him, he’d said nothing during their phone conversations to make her believe she’d been on his mind as constantly as he h
ad hers. So while she would be forever grateful for his help, she would remember that all he really wanted from her was the work that would occupy his time while he was there.

  She was still reminding herself of that two miles later as she passed the rutted lane to the mill and turned into the driveway leading to the house that now sported the new white aluminum siding Sam told her had been installed last week. All the old Baker place needed was trim paint and it would look brand new.

  Music greeted her as she stepped from her car. Heavy metal this time. But he must have seen her pull in. The volume died even as she glanced toward the trash pile that had grown with boxes that had held Megan’s new appliances and the empty paint cans that told Kelsey the inside was nearly finished, too.

  Sam had even enclosed the back porch. She had just followed the stepping stones leading to it when he emerged through its door wearing his faded NYPD T-shirt, paint-spattered jeans and the deceptively easy smile that never failed to do crazy things to her heart.

  Watching him shove his fingers through his dark hair as he walked toward her, she smiled back. His unhurried glance skimmed the short pink T-shirt and worn jeans she’d thrown on to work in, stalling for a moment on the curve of her breasts and her mouth before settling with laconic ease on her eyes.

  “I wondered when you’d show up.” For one totally irrational instant, she thought he might reach for her. It was that kind of welcome she thought she saw in his too-handsome face. “I heard at breakfast that you were here.”

  “I had a feeling Mom would mention it,” she replied, taking him in, trying not to. The lines bracketing his beautiful mouth looked carved more deeply then she remembered. So did those fanning from the corners of his eyes. He looked tired to her. And far more appealing than she wanted to admit. Thinking of her mom, though, had caution joining the wholly imprudent blend of longing and pleasure she felt seeing him again.