Currant Creek Valley (9 page)

“Does Harry know?” she finally quipped.

Mary Ella made a face. “Very funny. Yes. He’s been asking me since Christmas. I just... It took me a long time to feel comfortable saying yes.”

Their romance had shocked everyone in town, especially because Mary Ella had made no secret the past twenty years of her contempt for the man. She had always considered him greedy and soulless, someone who had betrayed his own son, traded his family away for a handful of gold.

Something had shifted between them the year before, however, around the time Harry’s son, Jackson, had come back into Maura’s life after he discovered they shared a daughter, Sage.

Tension tightened her mother’s features and Alex knew Mary Ella was waiting for some other response from her than a joke. She didn’t quite know what to say. Those strained and difficult teenage years aside, she loved her mother dearly and wasn’t sure Harry Lange was good enough for her.

“Are you...okay with it?” Mary Ella finally asked.

She gave a rueful shake of her head, squeezing her mother’s fingers. “I don’t know, Mom,” she said. “Don’t you think you could hold out for someone a little more financially secure who might take better care of you in your old age so we don’t have to?”

Mary Ella chuckled, some of the tautness of her muscles easing a little at Alex’s light tone. “I don’t care about his money. Harry knows that. I hope my own children do, too.”

“You know I’m teasing, Mom. Though if you were any other woman, I might suspect you of marrying him just to get your hands on his Sarah Colville paintings.”

“I’m considering that a very big bonus. I’m marrying the man I love and in the process gaining an entire houseful of paintings by my favorite artist.”

Mary Ella no longer looked as if she were going to climb the walls in a minute, but anxiety still furrowed her forehead. Alex swallowed the rest of her conflicted emotions and reached across the space between them to hug her.

“I’m happy for you, Mom,” she said, meaning every word. “I may not have been all that crazy about Harry when you started seeing him—you can’t expect to unleash shock waves of epic proportions like that on the whole town without rattling a few people—but he’s started growing on me.”

Mary Ella’s laugh was shaky with relief. “Thank you for saying that, my dear. Your sisters said much the same. Well, except for Lila and Rose, who haven’t really had a chance to get to know him this last year, as the rest of you have. Even they said they trusted my judgment. I only hope Riley will be as understanding.”

Her brother could be overprotective of the women in his family and often tried to boss them all around, but he and Harry also had a weirdly amicable relationship.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy for you,” she said. “If he’s not, Claire will make sure he comes around. So when’s the big day?”

“We thought the holidays would be a special time for a wedding. Claire and Riley’s was so beautiful a few years ago, all those silvery snowflakes. We don’t want anything big, mainly for family and close friends, at Harry’s house. It will be lovely in the winter, with a fire blazing and those windows that look out over the mountains.”

“I’m doing the food, of course.”

“Absolutely not,” Mary Ella answered promptly. “You can plan the menu and hire the caterers if you insist on it, but I want you to be part of the family, front and center, not hiding away in the kitchen by yourself.”

There went her escape plan. Ah, well. “Poor Maura. First she had to deal with Harry as a father-in-law and now he’s going to be her stepfather, too.”

“She’s actually great with it. She and Jack both. We told them first. I hope you don’t mind. Sage, of course, didn’t seem at all surprised.”

“None of us are, Mom. Everyone can see how happy you and Harry are together. He’s been a different person this last year. Amazing, after all these years, to realize the man actually has a heart under all that bluster.”

“A good, caring one. And healthier than it’s been in years.”

No matter her own misgivings about the relationship, she hoped for many joyful years for the two of them. Her mother didn’t need more loss.

“Harry makes you happy. That’s the important thing. You deserve somebody great in your life.”

Mary Ella gave her a careful look. “So do you, my dear.”

“Mom. Don’t start again.”

“I know. I know. It’s just...you’ve been alone all these years. Don’t you ever think maybe there’s somebody great out there looking for you?”

Ugh. Slip an engagement ring on her finger and a woman seemed to think everyone else needed one.

“Mom, can’t we just celebrate your happy news?”

“Hear me out. Last week I met this really nice young lawyer at the firm that handles Harry’s affairs in Denver. He’s been divorced about six months. No kids. He’s great-looking. Brown hair, blue eyes. He dresses well and it’s obvious he takes care of himself. More important, he’s funny and charming and
kind.
We had dinner with him and the entire time, I kept thinking how the two of you would be perfect for each other.”

“I’m not in the market for nice young lawyers, Mom.”

Mary Ella looked undeterred. “Okay. That’s fine. What about doctors, then? One of Harry’s cardiac specialists is also unmarried. He looks just like that scruffy Irish fellow you and Claire think is so good-looking.”

It took her a minute to figure out her mother meant Colin Farrell. Scruffy Irish fellow, indeed.

While she had to admit to being intrigued by the concept of a physician who looked like Colin Farrell, she couldn’t help worrying that all of Harry’s connections had apparently widened her dating pool, at least as far as her mother was concerned.

“I appreciate that. Really I do. But I’m not looking for a lawyer or a doctor. I’m really happy with my life. I just bought a house, after all, and the restaurant will be opening in a few weeks. Everything is perfect.”

Mary Ella looked doubtful. “What about that nice construction worker? He definitely looks like he could fill out a tool belt.”

“Mom!”

“What? What did I say?”

She shook her head, trying to banish that image from her entirely too active imagination.

“I mean it. My life is arranged exactly the way I want it.”

Mary Ella grew quiet. She sipped at her tea for a long moment then set her cup down on the saucer and faced Alex squarely, her green eyes a murky mix of sadness, concern and that lingering joy that couldn’t quite be squelched.

“Not all men are like your father, Alexandra. You know that, right?”

They rarely approached the topic of James McKnight. She really didn’t want to discuss it now.

“You think I don’t want to make a commitment to a man because of Dad?”

“You were so close to your father.” Mary Ella seemed to be picking over her words as carefully as Alex chose produce at the farmers’ market. “I remember how you used to love cooking something special for him on weekend mornings. I would wake up and you would already be hard at work in the kitchen trying to come up with something unique. He would come in from his run, scoop you up in his arms and call you his little Julia Child.”

She hated remembering those weekend mornings. “He had everything a man could want. But he still walked away from all of us.”

“Oh, darling. Your father loved you and your brother and sisters. I have to think he loved me, as well. But there was always some core of him that could never be happy, no matter what I did or any of you children did. I’m not sure he had the capacity to be truly happy. We married so young and I think part of him could never stop wondering about the roads he didn’t have the chance to travel and what might have been waiting for him there.”

Mary Ella touched her hand. “That didn’t mean he didn’t love you, Alex. All of you. I know he did. The time he spent with you children was some of his happiest.”

When she let herself see anything past her anger, she truly missed those happy times. Her father had been clever and fun, curious about everything around him.

Maybe, if she hadn’t been dealing with the ache of abandonment, she might have been more discriminating in her choices later in life. She wouldn’t have been so desperate for someone to love her that she completely ignored common sense and simple instincts.

“I’m going to tell you something I don’t think I’ve ever voiced before,” Mary Ella said. “If your father hadn’t been killed in that accident at the dig, I honestly think he would have come to his senses and realized everything he was giving up. He would have come to see how very much his family meant to him.”

“We’ll never know, will we?”

“No. And that grieves my heart for you children more than I can say.”

Alex shook her head. “Let’s not talk about this. This is a happy day. You’re getting married!” She injected all the enthusiasm she could in her voice, became as perky as Rachael freaking Ray sucking helium. “I’m so happy for you and Harry. As long as he treats you well, who cares that he has a reputation for being the crankiest man in town?”

Mary Ella laughed and allowed herself to be distracted, much to Alex’s relief. They talked a few more moments about the wedding plans and the restaurant and then Mary Ella left, with the excuse that she was meeting Claire and Riley at the Center of Hope Café to share the news with them.

With all the tea she had already nervously consumed, Alex doubted Mary Ella would have room left for any of Dermot’s food, but she wisely kept that opinion to herself.

After her mother left, she wandered around the bookstore for several minutes, purchased a couple foodie magazines and a cookbook for ideas.

She put them in her vehicle, which she had parked in the little lot behind Maura’s store, then headed across and down Main Street to the little fenced yard at String Fever where she had left Leo to play with Chester while she met her mother.

The two dogs were nestled together in a patch of spring sunlight that had burst through the gloom while she was at the bookstore. The sight of them, Leo’s head resting on Chester’s plump haunches, made her smile and pushed away a little of her restlessness.

She left them to it and peeked her head into the store to grab the leash she had left in Claire’s office. Evie stood behind the counter talking to one customer with another one waiting to grab her attention. She never disturbed her when she was busy so she only held up the leash and waved at her friend to let her know she was taking Leo with her.

By the time she walked back out, Leo was waiting for her by the rear door of the store, his tail wagging a greeting. He really was a great dog. Somebody
had
to be missing him somewhere.

Outside the fenced garden, she paused, the leash dangling in her hand. Every instinct she might have for self-preservation was urging her to take the safe course for the rest of the day—to climb back into her SUV and head home and work on her fledgling vegetable-and-herb garden along the banks of the creek.

The day before, Caroline had supervised from the patio while Alex took some perennial starts from her friend’s yards. Caroline, the expert gardener, had also offered some solid planting advice about what would work best for the soil she had.

Alex had big ideas for growing fresh herbs she could use in some of the dishes she wanted to serve at the restaurant and she couldn’t wait to get started.

Still, she found herself turning up the steep Main Street toward Brazen. She would only stop for a moment, she told herself. Just to prove to both of them she wasn’t running scared of him.

Clouds still hovered around the rugged mountaintops but the weather appeared to be clearing. In the wake of the early morning rain, everything looked clean and new, saturated with color, and the air smelled sweetly of spring growth.

She waved to Prudence Clover, riding down the hill on her cruising bike with the big straw basket in the front, and then to Darwin Leeds, who was out replacing a broken slat on his fence.

As she neared the restaurant, she told herself the little skitter in her chest was just happiness that she lived in such a beautiful place, surrounded by friends.

It certainly had nothing to do with anticipation about seeing Sam twice in one morning, only anticipation at seeing the familiar old fire station coming back to life.

The freshly painted wide red doors that had once opened for water tankers and ladder trucks gleamed a welcome in the morning light with their replacement windows. She couldn’t wait to open them on summer days and put seating on the flagstone patio so people could sit and look out at the charming, bustling town below. It would be a beautiful place to enjoy the summer sunshine and the evening stars.

When she pushed open the side door, raucous classic rock music competed with the buzz of power tools. The smell of sawdust and wood glue filled the air.

She saw Sam first thing. His back was to her as he worked a board through some kind of big saw hooked up to a power compressor. He wore black ear protectors, which probably masked the sound of her arrival. From behind, his T-shirt accentuated those wide shoulders that tapered down to slim hips and the muscled biceps that flexed with each movement, complete with that very sexy tattoo on his right arm.

Nerves curled in her stomach, glittery and bright, and she tightened her grip on the dog’s leash. This was stupid. He was just a good-looking man she happened to have kissed. Quite passionately.

Ignoring the clamoring impulse to just turn around and walk right back down the hill, she forced herself to wait a moment more until he turned off the power saw, then she cleared her throat.

He turned around, his brown eyes and long dark lashes magnified behind the clear safety goggles he wore.

“Alexandra! Hi. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” He set the board aside and pulled off all his protective wear then headed toward her.

“And Leo. Hey, there.”

She knew she shouldn’t be charmed by this big, tough-looking construction worker bending down to give a stray dog the love, but a traitorous warmth trickled through her when he rubbed Leo’s ears and throat.

“It stopped raining and he needed a walk anyway,” she explained quickly. “I’ve been trying to exercise him whenever I can in public areas in the hopes that somebody driving by might recognize him.”