A November Bride (9 page)

W
hat was Erik doing standing outside Whole Foods Market in the middle of the day, wearing his dark gray coat with the red plaid scarf she’d given him last Christmas, and holding two insulated cups, one of which he raised and tipped oh-so-slightly in her direction?

Sadie forced herself to maintain a slow pace. There would be no running across this parking lot, not with a light dusting of snow slicking the surface. She wasn’t going to do a face plant in front of him, thank you very much.

“For me?”

“Yes—you’re the one who muddies a good cup of coffee with milk and sugar. And I asked the barista to heat your cream before adding it to the coffee.” As he handed her the unexpected treat, he leaned in and brushed a kiss across her lips as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sadie spoke once she caught her breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you mentioned you had to shop for the Coopers when we talked earlier. I thought I’d tag along. Push your cart.”

Sweet—but Erik was going to be a huge distraction. Sadie needed to focus on her list, not the man next to her, who’d snagged a black metal cart from the corral by the front door.

“Where to? Fruits and veggies? Seafood? Desserts? Frozen foods?”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea. I have a system I like to follow . . .”

“Of course you do. Just consider me your shadow. I’ll tag along—all that I’m in charge of is pushing the cart and refilling your coffee. I won’t say another word.”

Erik controlled himself while she scanned her list: tritip roast, chicken Florentine, smoked garlic stuffed prime rib, handmade wild mushroom truffle pesto ravioli, and duck confit. The produce section proved his downfall.

“You know I can juggle, right?” Erik sorted through a pile of oranges, selecting three, and began tossing them in the air, increasing his speed.

“Yes, I know you can juggle.”

“Toss me another one.”

“I’m shopping.” Sadie was on the hunt for fresh herbs: thyme, sage, parsley, rosemary, and tarragon. “If you keep talking to me, I’m going to forget something.”

“Come on—toss me another one.”

A small group of children gathered around him. Sadie tossed him another orange. Let him entertain kiddos. She had work to do.

Erik found her in the market’s expansive cheese area.

“Hey. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” Sadie added Pecorino cheese to her cart. “I’m just on a tight schedule today.”

“Don’t you usually shop and then go home and do prep?”

“Yes. But I’m meeting Justin Boyle at The Tattered Cover later.”

“Oh?”

“He’s one of the single dads in the cooking class I teach at the church. You know him—he makes custom fishing rods. He wants to start cooking regular meals for his son—get away from fast food and chicken nuggets. So he asked me to meet him at five and help him find a good beginner’s cookbook.”

“Why don’t you just give him one of your cookbooks?” Erik stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “You’ve got enough.”

“I have a collection—not a lending library.” Sadie added a brick of Fontina cheese to the supplies. “Oh, no turning my books upside down. Not nice.”

“Took you long enough to notice. What was that—two weeks?”

“I noticed two days later—I’ve just been busy.”

“So you and Justin are going on a date, huh?”

“I don’t think it’s a date—” Was it? “I’m just giving him some extra help outside of class.”

“Is his son coming too?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“I’m helping him . . .”

Erik didn’t seem convinced.

“Fine. Be that way.”

Erik pushed the cart. No joking. No juggling. After helping her carry her bags to the car, he gave her a swift wave.

“Talk to you soon. Have fun tonight.”

“Thanks. I will.”

No kiss.

Why was Sadie going on a date with that guy?

Didn’t their two dates and one kiss—well, two kisses, which kept replaying in his mind—signify anything to her?

He was a teenager again and back up on that roller coaster, afraid Sadie was going to toss him over the side.

Not this time.

He was thirty, not eighteen. This time, he wasn’t going to wonder what happened. He wasn’t giving Sadie up without a fight. But he only had a few hours to plan his offensive maneuver.

So this was the life of a private investigator—lurking in between store shelves, watching the door, hoping some store clerk wouldn’t show up and accuse you of shoplifting?

Erik held his ground in the greeting card section of the bookstore, his attention on The Tattered Cover’s front doors. He even had a few cards in his hands, which he may or may not get to use, depending on how tonight went.

“Isn’t that her?”

At Lydia’s whispered question, he looked up from the
card adorned with a retro black-and-white photo of a man and woman embracing under the words: For My Love: C’mere you!

Sadie at nine o’clock.

Took her long enough to get here. Of course, she was the one who was punctual. He had been early.

“Yep, that’s her.”

What was she doing, looking that cute in a navy blue jacket, white scarf arranged at the collar, and a pair of black skinny jeans tucked in black boots?

And there was Justin, greeting her with a friendly hug. Motioning to the Starbucks coffee bar. Sadie shook her head. Looked as if it was book browsing first, coffee later.

Fine. He could put his plan into action all the sooner.

Erik set the cards back in the rack. “You ready for this? Okay, remember the plan: We interrupt Sadie and Justin. You distract Justin—to the point he takes you to coffee, not Sadie.”

Erik straightened his shoulders. Yeah, as far as Sadie was concerned, he was a goner. He just wasn’t sure Sadie would ever speak to him again after tonight’s lovesick shenanigans.

Lydia offered him a smirk—a sympathetic smirk, but a smirk nonetheless. “You must love her an awful lot to sabotage her date, Erik.”

The word
love
slammed into his gut. To admit it to himself was one thing. To hear an ex-girlfriend say it—out loud—was something else altogether.

“I do, Lydia.”

“Which is why you and I didn’t work out. Why did you even date me when you were in love with Sadie?”

“I just realized it. It took me seventeen years to figure it out.”

“Talk about slow.”

“Yeah—but I’m catching up fast. Let’s go.”

Sadie’s and Justin’s laughter floated over from one of the aisles in the cookbook section.

“Sadie, what a surprise!” Erik could only hope his voice sounded nonchalant.

“Erik?” The pages of the open book rippled through Sadie’s fingers.

He stepped forward, gripping Justin’s outstretched hand. “I’m Erik Davis.” He’d thought this next sentence out all afternoon. If he went the “I’m Sadie’s boyfriend” route, he put seventeen years on the line—and all his hopes for a future. “I’m Sadie’s best friend.”

“Nice to meet you, Erik. I’ve seen you at church.”

“And this is Lydia, a friend of mine.”

“Sadie—Erik’s told me so much about you.” Lydia enacted her part perfectly, offering Justin a warm smile and managing to position herself between the two men. “Hello, Justin.”

“Lydia.”

Erik ran his hand down the spines of the closest books. “So, how’s the cookbook browsing going?”

“We just started.” Sadie’s posture was rigid, her tone glacial.

“You like to cook, Justin?” Lydia might not be able to thaw out Sadie, but Justin couldn’t take his eyes off the tall brunette.

“I’m taking the father-son cooking class Sadie’s been
teaching at our church. Ever since my wife died almost two years ago, my son and I have survived on frozen food and takeout.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Lydia angled her body toward the widower. “I have a wonderful recipe for beef stroganoff. Of course, I’m not in Sadie’s league. I spend more time fly-fishing than cooking.”

“Fly-fishing?”

“Yes. My father taught me. Do you fly-fish?”

“I make custom rods.”

Lydia’s look of surprised admiration was Oscar worthy. “No, really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing. I’d love to see them sometime.”

“Sure.”

Erik knew his cue. “Aren’t some of your rods featured in a book?”

“Yeah, yeah they are.” Justin barely glanced at Erik. “How did you know that?”

“Sadie must have mentioned it to me.”

“There’s no time like the present.” Lydia was a pro. He would make sure he loaded her Starbucks card with an extra twenty-five dollars. “Maybe the book’s here.”

“Oh, I don’t know . . .”

It figured Justin Boyle would play it humble.

“It wouldn’t hurt to look.” Lydia tucked her arm through Justin’s. “Shall we?”

Justin hesitated. “You don’t mind, Sadie?”

“No, no, I don’t mind at all. I’ll keep looking through the shelves.”

“Anyone interested in coffee?” Erik pulled out his wallet. “I can go order for us.”

Everyone declined, and soon he and Sadie were left standing between the shelves.

Sadie slammed the cookbook shut. “Erik Davis, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You knew I was going to be here with Justin.”

“So suspicious, Sadie J.”

“Do you deny that you arranged to be here with Lydia at the same time?”

“Is this when I take the fifth?” Erik held his hands up, hoping Sadie backed down soon.

“This is when you go home.”

“But then you’ll be left here all alone.”

“Only until Justin comes back.”

“But if, um, my suspicions are correct, he’s not going to be coming back anytime soon.”

She advanced on him, one slow step at a time. “Did you sic Lydia on that poor man?”

“Are you kidding me? Did you see Lydia? Did you see Justin looking at Lydia? And they both like fly-fishing—they’re perfect for each other.”

“What? Now you’re a matchmaker?”

“Justin’s happy. Lydia’s happy. I’m happy.” He took the book from her hands. “What about you? Are you happy?”

“Me? I’m discovering that my best friend is a conniving stalker.”

“All’s fair in love, sweetheart. All’s fair.”

I
t was barely seven in the morning on a Saturday. Sadie wasn’t asleep, but she wasn’t up and at ’em, either. She’d go grocery shopping later, after coordinating her planned menu with the sales at the local grocery stores, but for now she needed quiet. And answers. Still in bed, her blankets smoothed over her legs, her pillows arranged behind her back, she balanced her Bible against her knees.

So, Sadie, what do you think about Oregon? Have you made a decision?

Mrs. Hartnett’s question, left via voice mail on Thursday, had haunted her the last few days. Stay or go? Should she or shouldn’t she?

Sadie had flipped through her Bible for the last forty-five minutes, finding her “anchor” verses—passages that had helped her in the past. Comforted her when she was hurt. Guided her when she had other decisions to make. Today she’d stopped at Psalm 143:8, “Let me hear Your
lovingkindness in the morning; For I trust in You; Teach me the way in which I should walk; For to You I lift up my soul.”