Christmas in Cupid Falls (6 page)

Kennedy looked as if she’d taken offense. “And he’s got a dresser full of clothes and diapers an
d . . .
” She crossed her arms over the baby. “I’m not going to itemize the baby’s layette. Suffice it to say, he’s got more than ample supplies.”

“What about bottles and that sort of thing?” Malcolm asked.

“I’m going to breastfeed.” She blushed as she said the word and hurried on and added, “So I don’t need bottles. See, that’s another reason you can’t take the baby. He would starve.”

“How will you do that and work?” he asked.

“I’m taking the baby with me to work, and I’ve got a sign for the door that says ‘Back in a minute.’ I’ll be using it a lot more. That won’t be a solution for you.”

He could see all kinds of flaws in that argument. Even if she breastfed, the baby
could
take a bottle. Or he could wait to share custody until the baby was weaned. But she’d looked so worried before, and he didn’t want to start another contraction, so he didn’t say anything about it. He simply asked, “What’s in your aunt’s old room?”

Kennedy looked confused. “Her things,” she said, as his question was ridiculous because the answer was obvious.

Her aunt had been dead for years. He couldn’t imagine why she left Betty’s room untouched. This room was tiny, and looked even smaller from the slant of the roofline. “Why don’t you move there and turn this into the baby’s room?”

Kennedy paused a long moment, as if she were asking herself that question for the first time. “I don’t know. That’s her room. I feel funny about changing things.”

“She’s been gon
e . . .
how long? Years. Maybe it’s time.”

Kennedy shrugged, then turned and walked back downstairs.

There was nothing for Mal to do but follow. But as he walked by, he took a moment to peek into her aunt’s room. It looked as if she could come back at any moment.

The whole house looked exactly the way he remembered it, which meant that Kennedy hadn’t changed anything since Betty died.

He wondered why.

“Well, good night then,” she said as she stood next to the front door at the bottom of the stairs.

When he didn’t move toward it, she opened it.

Mal grabbed his coat and put it on. “We’ll talk again soon.”

Kennedy sighed for probably the umpteenth time that evening. “I’m sure we will.”

The moment he was on the porch, she shut the door.

Mal walked next door; his thoughts were almost as jumbled as his feelings. He had no idea what he was going to do about Kennedy and her baby.

Their baby.

And frankly, even if he could sort it all out and make a decision, he doubted Kennedy would cooperate. If you’d asked him yesterday what he knew about Kennedy Anderson, he’d have said she was a nice woman.

Earlier today, when he saw what she’d done for Jenny and her daughter, he’d still have said as much.

Tonight, after eating dinner with her and trying to talk about the baby, he’d say she had a will of iron. That she had unflagging energy and determination, juggling the town, her shop, the Center, and her pregnancy.

But there were more layers to Kennedy Anderson. He couldn’t help but wonder why she’d left the house unchanged. Why she hadn’t done more to prepare for the baby. And why she seemed so adamant that she didn’t need any help.

She’d been right when she’d said they hardly knew each other.

But he was taking time off and staying in Cupid Falls long enough to figure out what to do about the bab
y . . .
and maybe while he was at it, he’d figure out what made Kennedy Anderson tick.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was a blissfully quiet weekend. Kennedy had been nervous that Malcolm was going to hound her every waking moment, but he left her alone.

She caught a glimpse of him Saturday morning as he walked in front of the flower shop’s plate glass window. She assumed he was heading to the Center. She thought he might call her with some questions about it, but he didn’t. It was one of the rare weekends that nothing was going on there. Next weekend was the official beginning of the holiday season and there was a big craft show. There were probably a dozen different activities planned between that and the holiday itself. The other big event was the weekend before Christmas. It was the Everything But a Dog Foundation’s adoption day, followed by its fund-raiser Christmas ball. A lot of people had started calling it the Bow-Wow Ball, since the proceeds would go to the foundation.

Clarence had taken to calling it the Bow-Wow—both long O’s—Ball to tease her. Kennedy would never admit it, but he did make her laugh. From what she’d seen, he made Joan laugh as well, despite his occasional trips to the
froghouse
. Maybe that was the key to a good relationshi
p . . .
finding someone who could make you laugh more often than they annoyed you.

On Sunday she went to church, then bundled up and took a walk through town. She took her job as mayor seriously. As mayor it was her job to see to it Cupid Falls grew and thrived. As she walked down the street, past Books and Stuff and the Cupboard, she felt as if she was making headway.

As she walked by the flower shop, she looked across the street at the grocery store. There was an empty storefront next to it. She was actively trying to attract a new business there. She hated looking out her window and seeing the vacant shop. It seemed like so much lost potential.

She walked between the flower shop and the Center, through the snow-covered back lawn, then down the path to Falls Creek. There was a giant glacial boulder at the edge of the water. It gave her the perfect vantage point to watch the falls.

Cupid’s Falls was only about six, maybe eight feet high. The water poured from the creek above, down a rocky face, and back to the creek again. Through the years the waterfall had hollowed out a swimming hole beneath it. Where the water fell it was easily seven or eight feet deep, but farther back it was only four or five. She knew that generations of the town’s kids had come here in the summer to swim.

Even more had sat on this boulder together. Couples.

She knew the legend of the falls.

She wasn’t sure she believed it, but she liked the idea of capitalizing on it as a draw for the town and for the Center. Well, if Malcolm agreed to sell her the business.

Maybe that summed up her problems. She looked at this beautiful place as a business opportunity, not a romantic place of local lore.

She refused to remember standing here with Malcolm after his mother’s funeral. How they’d sat side by side on this rock—two people mourning her loss. They’d talked about Val. And how talking led to comfort, and comfort led to that one nigh
t . . .

Her hand rested on the baby.

She knew she was more practical than romantic. Maybe that’s why that one night felt surreal to her. For one night, she thought maybe there was more of a connection than there was.

After he left, and days turned into weeks without word from him, she knew she’d been foolish to fall under the spell of the local legends and her teenage crush.

And as weeks turned to months, she realized that she was pregnan
t . . .
and it only made her more practical. She couldn’t afford to be a lovelorn teen anymore. She couldn’t pine over the boy next door. She was a business owner, a mayor, and she was going to be a mother. It was time to put away foolish childhood dreams.

As she stared at the falls, she reminded herself of her practicality. She couldn’t help but wonder why that practicality didn’t lead her to say yes to Malcolm’s proposal.

After all, it would be practical to marry for the baby’s sake.

The baby kicked and her hands rested on her stomach.

How she felt about this baby had nothing to do with practicality. It had everything to do with love. Maybe there was something to the legends. She had found the love of her life here at the falls. But it wasn’t Malcol
m . . .
it was their child.

That thought settled something in her that night. And it led to her resolve to get along with Malcolm even if it killed her—and it
might
kill her. She smiled despite herself at the thought.

She’d offer to help Malcolm with the Center’s two biggest holiday events, the craft show and the Everything But a Dog events. With Pap, she’d have gone ahead and worked on them, but the Center was Malcolm’s, not hers, and not Pap’s. She’d offer but let him take the lead.

Kennedy felt more settled the next day as she jumped right in at work. It was the beginning of her holiday season at the flower shop. She had a slew of Thanksgiving gift baskets and floral arrangements that were being picked up between now and Wednesday. Then a quiet day off, after which began an even crazier schedule until Christmas.

She was tying a ribbon onto a poinsettia when the antique bell on the door jingled. She hurried out front to see who it was.

“Morning, Mayor. Happy Monday.”

“No barking today, Clarence?” she asked with a smile.

The old man grinned back at her. “Nah. Joan said you were too pregnant for me to pick on, so I have to lay of
f . . .
but only until after the baby,” he warned her. “She was real fond of the frog.”

“So you’re out of the froghouse?” Kennedy laughed again at the expression.

He nodded. “For now. Probably not for long. You keep your eyes out for other stuff for her, okay? If you see it, it’s best to get it and stock up.”

“I will. But if you’re not in the froghouse today, what can I do for you?”

Clarence’s expression sobered. “It’s a mayor thing, not a floral thing.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s about May Williams. She was at my door at six this morning, complaining that I hadn’t shoveled yet. Now, Mayor, I keep my sidewalk clear. I shoveled last night before I went to bed. But it was six a.m. I hadn’t even started the coffee yet. I told the old bat to go away. I told her that I’d get to it when I woke up, but she said she was going to report me to the police. Now, Jonny, he’s a nice boy, but I don’t know him well, so I came to you. I don’t want him arresting me. There was less than an inch on the ground, and I swear, I’d have cleaned it off as soon as I had some clothes on and a cup of coffee under my belt.”

“Listen, Clarence, I’ll give Jon a call. I don’t think he’d really arrest you, but I’ll see to it.”

“Thanks, Mayor. If May’s not careful, I’m going to press charges. She’s disturbing my peace.”

The bell on the door rang and Kennedy barely resisted the urge to sigh. “It’s all right, Clarence.”

“It most certainly is not all right,” May Williams said as she stormed into the shop. “I went for a walk this morning, and no one had shoveled.”

“May, if you’d waited even an hour, most people would have shoveled.”

“I’m accustomed to walking early. Even though June died, I still enjoy those early morning walks.”

With a burst of insight, Kennedy realized that May had become a huge pain in her butt late last spring, right about the time the aging dog, June, had passed. May was probably lonely.

The bell rang again.

This was not what Kennedy needed. She had a bajillion orders to fill, calls to make, an
d . . .

Malcolm walked in. “Good morning, Mayor.”

She remembered her resolve and forced a cordial smile and said, “Good morning, Malcolm.”

“You don’t need to walk that early,” Clarence said loudly to May. “There’s no dog whining to get out, so you could wait until a man had a chance to put on his pants and make his coffee.”

Kennedy saw May’s eyes well up with tears.

Before she started to cry in earnest, Kennedy turned her back on Malcolm and said, “May, let’s make a deal. I’ll have Clarence talk to the neighbors and ask that everyone has their sidewalks cleared by eight thirty. Most of your neighbors are up by then and already on their way to work. On snowy mornings, you’ll hold off your walk until then.”

Any fight the older woman had seemed to drain out of her at the mention of her dog. “Fine,” she said, without the slightest bit of
humph
in her voice.

Kennedy knew she was right about May’s behavior having to do with losing June.

Clarence seemed to realize he’d gone too far with the mention of May’s dog, because he said quietly, “I’m sorry about June, May.”

May sniffed.

Kennedy said, “I’m sorry, too. I know that you can never replace June, but we have that nonprofit organization, Everything But a Dog, coming to town right before Christmas. Vancy Salo has been working in Erie with dog adoptions. She’s bringing a bunch of animals with her. Why don’t you think about adopting a dog? It would be a lovely Christmas present for yourself.”

May sniffed. “I’m not sure I’m ready. I had June for fifteen years. How can you simply replace a companion like that?”

“June had a wonderful life,” Kennedy said. “I remember all the sweaters you made him. He was so loved. If you won’t do it for yourself, think about a dog that’s been abandoned. A dog that’s never had a family and known that kind of devotion. Maybe you could do it for the dog?”

May Williams—griping, nagging, annoying May Williams—sniffled, and Kennedy found herself putting an arm over the older lady’s shoulders. “You’d be saving some dog’s life, May.”

“When you put it that way, it would be the right thing to do.”

“It would,” Kennedy agreed. “And I have a favor. I hate to ask, you know that, but I could go into labor any minute. I really need a team who’s able to step in and fill in for me if I do.”

May nodded and said, “What can I do?”

“Do you think you could help us out with the adoption day? I know that the ladies at Everything But a Dog would love to have someone local working with them. They’ve had adoption days all over Erie, but this will be the first one in the county. And if I should go into labor, I’d need to count on you to handle everything.” She leaned closer and whispered in May’s ear, “Malcolm might be an amazing attorney, but he won’t be able to handle an event like this on his own.”

Tears forgotten, May smiled and sounded genuinely happy as she said, “Why, Kennedy, I’d love to help.”

“Wonderful. I’ll get you Mrs. Salo’s number. She’ll tell you to call her Nana Vancy. Everyone, even her kids, uses that name.”

Crotchety, complaining May Williams laughed. “Well, that’s a lovely name.”

Clarence said, “After you talk to this Nana Vancy, if there’s more than you can do alone, you let me and Joan know. We can help. Maybe if Joan got a dog, she’d lay off buying the frogs.”

May smiled. “I will. Maybe we can put up flyers an
d . . .
”

Kennedy copied Nana Vancy’s number down for May and watched in amazement as Clarence and May left, talking excitedly over plans for the event.

“Nicely done, Mayor,” Malcolm said. “You handled them with the wisdom of Solomon. I remember May’s dog, June. I don’t think he liked those sweaters as much as she did, and I’m pretty sure being named June didn’t sit well with him, either.”

Kennedy turned around and saw Malcolm leaning against the wall, looking for all the world as if he enjoyed the show.

“You. I forgot about you.” Kennedy generally loved Mondays, but she was not loving this particular one. She remembered her resolution and forced another smile. “What can I do for you, Malcolm?”

“I came for three reasons.” He held up three fingers.

“Shoot.” She waited for him to tell her that he was suing her for custody of the baby and hand her a bunch of legal papers. She felt a sick feeling of dread spread over her.

He bent down his ring finger. “First, I came to see if we could get together this week and go over the events? I’d like you to talk me through what I need to do for next weekend’s craft fair.”

“Sure. I’d already decided to ask if you’d allow me to help with it and with the Everything But a Dog day, too. Secondly?”

He bent down his middle finger. “Thursday’s Thanksgiving. Pap is coming home for the day. I thought we could have Thanksgiving dinner together and tell him he’s going to be a great-grandfather. He knows, but I’d like to make it official.”

If he’d simply asked her to dinner, she wouldn’t have felt bad saying no. Normally, she took Thanksgiving to recover from the first week of the shop’s holiday craziness. She’d spend the day in pj’s, watch the parades, and make herself a turkey breast. That was before she’d been pregnant and exhaustion was pretty much her constant companion. She needed a day off. But if Malcolm was asking her for Pap, she had to go. “Fine.”

“I’m cooking. You’re going to sit back and be waited on.”

She should fight and assure him that she was capable of cooking, but to be honest, she knew she was going to be done in by Thursday.

“Fine,” she said, and realized how ungracious she sounded, so she added, “thank you.”