Almost Home (11 page)

“It used to be. He’s been staying up a little later since we came to St. Dennis because we take a walk after dinner every night, and then he likes to play with his cousin.”

Before she realized what was happening, Wade had lifted the heaviest of the boxes of paint cans and started to walk toward the house. When she started to protest, he said simply, “I have it.”

With Austin toddling behind, Wade set off for the house.

Steffie grabbed the bag with all the brushes and mixing sticks and the rollers and tried to catch up.

“You can put them down right here in the front hall.” She trailed behind him. “Thanks, Wade, you don’t have to …”

But he was out the door again, having passed her on the sidewalk, and at the car, hoisting another box and carrying it as if it were light as a feather.

“Wade, I appreciate your help, I really do. But don’t feel as if you have to …”

“I don’t, Stef.” He lifted the last of the heaviest boxes. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” Stef gave up. She picked up the roller pans and went inside. Austin pulled tentatively at a strip of peeling wallpaper that hung almost to the floor.

“Step.” He pointed to her when she came in.

“Austin, you are one smart cookie,” she told him.

“Not a cookie.” He giggled, and she fought the urge to ruffle those dark curls of his.

“Long as we’re here, maybe you could give us a quick tour.” Wade placed the last of the boxes on the floor.

“Sure.” How could she not, after he’d carried in all the paint? She led them through one room into the next—Austin riding on Wade’s shoulders—until they ended up in the kitchen.

“Nice cabinets, Stef.” Wade stood Austin on the floor. “Are you going to make any changes in here?”

Fighting a sigh—why wouldn’t he just say, “Nice house,” and then leave?—she nodded and walked him through the remodeling she had in mind.

“It’s going to be great,” he told her enthusiastically. “I’m happy for you. You’re going to have a terrific house.”

“Thanks. I always loved this place.” She could have told him more, like how she and Horace had spent so many hours making ice cream here in the kitchen, but she just couldn’t bring herself to share any more of herself with him than she already had over the years. What would be the point?

Austin rubbed his eyes and leaned heavily against Wade.

“Someone’s just about done for the night.” Wade picked him up, and the child nestled against his chest and closed his eyes. “And I guess you have some things you wanted to do here.”

She walked them to the door.

“Thanks again, Wade. I appreciate you giving me a hand.”

“My pleasure. Anytime I can help out, give me a call. I’m pretty good at painting ceilings and doing the cutwork.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, knowing full well that she’d walk through fire before she asked for his help.

Wade walked down the uneven path to the gate, then turned suddenly. “Hey, do you have a ladder?”

“What?” She stepped outside.

“A ladder. You didn’t have one in the car, and I
didn’t see one in the house.” He leaned over to place Austin in the stroller.

“I didn’t think about needing one,” she admitted. How could she have forgotten a ladder?

“Even as tall as you are, you’ll still need one to reach the tops of the windows and the ceiling.” He smiled. “I saw one in the carriage house the other day. I’ll drop it off.”

“No, Wade, it’s okay. I can pick one up at the hardware store tomorrow.”

“Why go to the trouble when we have one? As far as I know, Berry’s not planning on doing any painting anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry about returning it until you’re finished.”

“Really, Wade—”

“See you.” He waved and started to jog down the street. Steffie walked to the end of the drive. He did look good in jogging shorts, she’d give him that. She thought back to the other morning, when he’d stopped at the shop wearing jogging shorts and a tank. Now,
that
was a nice picture to call up, she couldn’t deny it.

She started to turn back to the house when Wade surprised her by looking back over his shoulder and waving just before he turned the corner onto Parish House Road, and her heart twirled around in her chest.

Now, why did he have to do that?

“Immune. Right.” She snorted and jammed her hands into her pockets and walked back into the house. “Way to hang tough, Wyler.”

*   *   *

“Did you try the new pumpkin spice latte?” Vanessa poked Steffie in the middle of her back. “Carlo is going seasonal this year.”

Steffie shook her head. “I know this is a revolutionary thought, but how ’bout coffee that just tastes like coffee all year round? No need to change with the season, no need to be creative.”

“You change your ice-cream flavors with the seasons,” Vanessa reminded her.

“Ice cream is different. It has to have a flavor. Coffee already has one.” Stef stirred her mug of breakfast blend. “Oddly enough, it’s called ‘coffee.’ ”

“You could just make vanilla.”

“Boring.”

“My point exactly.”

“Nah, you can’t compare.” Stef took a chair at the table where Grace, Nita, and Barbara were already seated. “And you have to be seasonal because if you use fresh fruits, they have to be in season. Strawberries in early summer, peaches later, apples even later.” She took a sip. “Other stuff in between.”

“But strawberries seem to be in season all the time, somewhere.” Nita looked up as Vanessa and Stef sat down.

“But I prefer stuff when it’s in season here,” Stef said.

“What do you do in February when you want to make strawberry ice cream?” asked Barbara.

“I use the berries I froze the June of the previous year.”

“So, they’re not really in season when you use them,” Vanessa pointed out smugly.

“But they were in season when I froze them, so
technically, they count.” Stef held up her mug. “And coffee is always in season.”

The women debated the merits of flavored coffee over unflavored for another minute.

“Stef”—Nita leaned forward slightly to make eye contact—“was that Wade MacGregor I saw helping you unload your car last night?”

“I was unloading the car, and he just happened to be passing by on a walk with Austin.” Stef raised an eyebrow. “Where were you?”

“I just happened to be driving by and I saw him getting something out of the back of your car,” Nita explained.

“I bought paint,” Stef told her.

“My, you’re not letting any grass grow under your feet, are you?” Grace smiled.

“I want to move in as soon as possible,” Stef explained. “Why should I keep paying rent when I have a house of my own?”

“And it’s a lovely house, dear.” Grace patted Steffie’s hand. “I hope you’ll be very happy there.”

“Thank you, Miss Grace. I know I will be.”

“So how much paint did you buy that Wade had to carry it for you?” Vanessa asked.

“I bought enough for the entire downstairs. And my bedroom. Oh, and my bath. And Wade didn’t have to help carry it. He was just being kind. ’Cause of his sister and my brother, you know …”

“So tragic about his wife,” Grace murmured. Every head at the table swiveled in her direction at the same time, as if on cue.

“What? What did you hear?”

“What tragedy?”

“Who told you …?”

“I’m sorry,” Grace said softly. “I thought everyone knew.”

“Knew what?” Stef asked.

“Well, about Wade’s wife dying.” Grace looked somewhat chagrined to find out that she’d possibly be the source of gossip.

“What? She
died
? As in, DIED?” Vanessa gasped. “When? What happened to her?”

“And who told you?” Barbara asked.

Steffie sat mutely, taking it all in.

“Well, now, if I’d known that no one knew, I wouldn’t have said anything.” Grace was almost apologetic, but it was too late. The beans had been spilled, as Barbara was only too happy to remind her.

“Yes, but you did, so now you have to tell us everything you know,” Barbara prodded.

“Well, it seems he was married to Austin’s mother, who passed away from an illness. I didn’t want to pry and ask Berry for too many details, you know.” Grace glanced around the table. “Lest I appear insensitive.”

“God forbid,” Nita deadpanned.

“Who was she?” Steffie asked.

“She was his partner. The woman he went into business with. She got sick and died just recently.”

“How recently?”

“I don’t know for certain, Stef, but I believe it was over the summer,” Grace told her. “Berry said he wrapped up all their business in Texas and closed up shop, then packed up that trailer he hauled up here. Just pulled up stakes and came on back.”

“How long is he planning on staying, did she say?” Vanessa asked.

“It didn’t occur to me to ask.”

“Did anyone get the feeling that Berry and Dallas were as surprised as everyone else in town when Wade showed up with that little boy?” Nita looked from one face to the other. “Steffie, your brother is practically a member of the MacGregor family. Did Grant say if Dallas had mentioned that her brother had a child?”

Steffie shook her head, and her fingers began to tear tiny pieces off her paper napkin.

“Now, does that seem odd to anyone besides me?” Nita asked.

“It does.” Barbara nodded. “That boy is what, a year and a half, maybe? Berry is, as you all know, a neighbor of mine. I see her several times a week, but she’s never mentioned that Wade had a son. I can’t imagine that she’d have known she had a great-grandnephew but didn’t bother to mention it. It’s not her style.”

“Stef, at Beck’s wedding, did Wade mention a wife?” Nita looked Stef right in the eye. No beating around the bush there. “You did spend a lot of time … 
chatting
with him that night.”

“Never said a word, Nita.” Stef felt her cheeks flush. Leave it to Nita to come up with a clever euphemism for what Wade and Stef had been doing that night.

“Grace, did Berry say what the wife died from?” Barbara asked.

Grace shook her head. “No, and I didn’t want to press her to find out what the circumstances were. All
I could think of was how sad for that little boy to lose his mama before he was old enough to really know her,” Grace told them. “And how sad for Wade to be a widower so young.”

Everyone nodded in agreement that it was sad, indeed. Except for Steffie, who, more confused than ever, downed the rest of her coffee. “Gotta run,” she told the others. “I’m getting a late start today.”

“When are you going on your new fall hours?” Grace appeared relieved to have the conversation moving in a different direction.

“As of next week, we’ll be closing at seven, except for Friday and Saturday nights,” Stef said. “With the kids back to school and the evenings getting cooler, there’s no point in staying open later than that.”

She gathered the shredded napkin and her mug.

“I’ll see you all later.” She started to walk away from the table.

“Stef, by the way, was that you I saw coming out of Enright’s office today?” Barbara asked.

“The firm handled Horace’s will. There were some papers I had to sign for the house.” Stef smiled. These ladies didn’t miss a trick. Between Nita, Barbara, and Grace, they pretty much had the whole town covered.

“That Enright boy can write my will any day.” Barbara wiggled her eyebrows.

“He is a dear young man, isn’t he?” Grace smiled. “I was glad to see one of the younger Enrights step in to keep the family practice going.”

“Now, which of Mike’s brothers is Jesse’s father?” Nita asked.

“The oldest one. Craig. He used to be married to Delia Enright, the mystery writer,” Grace told them.
“She and Craig divorced years ago, and he married Lainie, his current wife, Jesse’s mother.”

“I saw Jesse in the market the other day,” Nita said. “He was picking up one of the flyers for Natalie’s Run.”

“He said he was going to run,” Stef replied.

“I think it’s so nice that the town gets behind that charity run every year,” Grace said. “What a nice way to honor your late sister, Steffie.”

“We are grateful to everyone who participates,” Stef told her. “I hope I’ll see you all there next Saturday.”

Everyone at the table nodded.

“Great. Thank you. I appreciate it.” Stef grabbed her purse from the back of her chair. “And this time, I’m really leaving.”

She tossed the remains of the napkin into the trash and left her mug on the counter for Carlo. Walking back to Scoop, she thought about the good people of St. Dennis who were willing to donate their time and their money to run—or walk—to raise funds for childhood leukemia, the disease that had taken her sister, Natalie. Only eighteen months old—roughly Austin’s age—when Natalie died, Stef had no memories of her sister, who’d been four when she passed away. There were photographs, but few of Stef and Natalie together. Natalie had been diagnosed when Stef was only five months old. Of the four Wyler siblings, Natalie had been the closest to Stef in age, and even though she’d never known her, Stef had always felt a connection to her. She wished Natalie had lived long enough for Stef to have some personal recollection
of her, some memory that had been hers and hers alone.

She couldn’t help but feel sick about Wade’s wife. Had the woman been dying when she and Wade had been dancing the night away?

Uh-uh. Wade would never have left a dying wife.

But when was she his wife? And what if he hadn’t known she was dying?

She shook her head almost imperceptibly as she walked along. Grace said the woman had been ill. He wouldn’t have left her if he’d known she was on her deathbed, even for Beck’s wedding. Which led to the question of whether or not he was married at Beck’s wedding. But wouldn’t Berry have referred to the woman as his ex-wife if he hadn’t been?

Too many questions, far too few answers.

It must be so very difficult for Wade, Stef thought, to have had to bury someone he loved. And surely, he had loved her, if he’d married her, right?

And yet there was this … 
something
between the two of them, some sort of fission that activated whenever she and Wade got within fifty feet of each other. She’d felt it last night at the house, and she was pretty damned sure that he’d felt it, too. Did that sound like a man who was mourning the loss of his true love?