In Firefly Valley (4 page)

The man shifted slightly, revealing his profile. Not Hal. Definitely not Hal. Marisa let out a sigh of relief. The blond-haired man must be one of Greg's friends.

She closed her eyes briefly, hoping that he wouldn't be another unplanned guest. She and Mom had enough on their plates without adding another guest into the mix. Mom was already committed to serving the workers both breakfast and a noon meal. While that involved no more cooking than if the resort were open, the timing made it more stressful for Marisa's mother. Now, with Blake in residence, she had to worry about his evening meal too.

As the music changed, Marisa joined others in watching a man whose resemblance to Greg left no doubt that this was his father escort his wife to her seat then walk closer to the altar to take his place next to Greg. It was the first time Marisa had heard of a father serving as his son's best man, but as Mom had told her, this was not a typical wedding party.

Next in the procession came Kate's grandmother, escorted down the aisle by her new husband. Marisa couldn't help smiling at the sight of Roy Gordon. Growing up, she hadn't known him well, because his children were considerably older than she, but he had a reputation as a good guy, and from all accounts, he'd been devastated when his wife had died. Marisa was thankful he was getting a second chance at love. If only Mom would, but she . . . Marisa bit the inside of her cheek and forced her thoughts back to Kate and Greg's wedding.

Though normally Roy would have taken a seat next to his wife, he returned to the back of the church. As soon as he reached it, a pretty woman with auburn hair began to walk slowly down the aisle. This must be Kate's childhood friend Gillian. Mom had said that she was going to be Kate's maid of honor.

And then came the moment everyone had been waiting for. As the familiar strains of “Here Comes the Bride” filled the church, everyone rose and watched as Roy escorted Kate to the man who would soon be her husband.

The ceremony was beautiful, so filled with loving promises that Marisa found herself dashing a tear from her eye as she said a silent prayer that Kate and Greg's marriage would be long and happy.

Once the final vows were made, Marisa and her mother slipped out. It was time to get to work. Though the ceremony had been small, there were six hundred people to feed, for the whole town of Dupree had been invited to the reception.

Half an hour later, the food Marisa, her mother, and the high school food science students had spent most of the week preparing was set out on long tables under a tent that provided respite from the sun as well as protection if it should rain. While Mom flitted from platter to platter, adjusting the position of the hot and cold hors d'oeuvres, Marisa watched with amusement. She doubted anyone would care that her mother's tamales were arranged just so. What mattered was that they were the best in the state, and that the fruit punch and sweet tea were cold.

“That's the most unusual cake I've ever seen.”

Marisa turned, surprised to see Blake standing next to her. She had thought he might remain with the bridal couple while the photographs were being taken. Unlike Marisa, he was a guest and not part of the help. But instead he was pointing at the wedding cake.

“Kate saw a picture of one in an old magazine she found in the storeroom,” Marisa explained. “According to my mother, once she saw it, Kate insisted that was what she wanted. It was a bit of a challenge, but Mom had fun creating it.”

What made the cake unusual was that it was shaped like a church, complete with a bride and groom at the front door and stained glass windows on the sides. Those stained glass windows, made from special fondant so that everything on the cake itself was edible, had proven to be the most difficult part of the project.

“It sends a message, doesn't it?”

Marisa nodded. No one would doubt that God was an integral part of this marriage. “That's the cake they'll cut,” she told Blake. “It's white cake with buttercream frosting, but if you prefer chocolate, we have dozens—literally—of chocolate pound cakes.”

“With chocolate frosting?”

Cakes, no matter how creative the design, were hardly an earthshaking subject, and yet Marisa could not deny that her pulse had accelerated the moment she'd heard Blake's voice.

“A glaze,” she replied in a surprisingly normal voice. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you had what appeared to be chocolate frosting on your face when I met you this morning.”

“Oh!” How embarrassing. “I guess you can tell that I'm not a chef.”

As guests began to arrive to congratulate the bride and groom, who'd emerged from the church and were now greeting the townspeople, Marisa moved to the side. At this point, her only responsibility was replacing platters as they were emptied and hoping that not too many people would ask why she'd come back to Dupree and whether this was a permanent move. Perhaps if she were obviously engaged in a conversation with Blake, others would hesitate to interrupt.

There were dangers, though. Marisa had already spotted Amelia, Debra, and Edie, the women Lauren had nicknamed the Matchers, and had tried to deflect their questions about when she would be walking down the aisle. It didn't take a genius to imagine what they'd say if they saw her with Blake. But maybe seeing her with Blake wasn't all bad. He'd only be here for a week or so, and if they were speculating about her, perhaps Lauren would be off the hook for a while.

“So what do you do if you're not a chef?” he asked.

“I'm a CPA. I used to work for a firm in Atlanta, but now I'm the business manager for Rainbow's End. That's actually a fancy
term for bookkeeper and gofer,” Marisa said with a self-deprecating chuckle. Though she had no intention of mentioning that she'd been downsized and hadn't been able to find a similar position in Georgia, she saw no need to glorify her job. “How about you?”

As Blake looked into the distance for a moment, something about his expression made her think he was choosing his words. That was silly, of course. He had no reason to dissemble about something as straightforward as a career.

“I have a small financial planning firm in San Francisco.” His matter-of-fact tone told Marisa she'd imagined his hesitation. “Although ‘firm' is a bit of an overstatement. I'm the one and only employee.”

Before Marisa could respond, one of her high school teachers spotted her and welcomed her back to town. “I always hoped you'd come back,” Ms. Shackelford said. “You belong in Dupree.”

Forcing her lips into a polite smile, Marisa gave the woman a noncommittal nod. When she'd left, Marisa turned back to Blake and sighed. “Is San Francisco as beautiful as everyone says?”

As Blake shrugged, the action highlighted his well-formed shoulders and sent a whiff of his aftershave toward Marisa. She wasn't sure which entranced her more; all she knew was that the attraction she'd tried so hard to deny was real. Something about this man appealed to her in ways no other man had. Mom was wrong, though. This wasn't love at first sight. It couldn't be, because Marisa and Blake weren't like her mother and father. Not at all.

“The whole Bay Area is definitely beautiful,” Blake agreed, his words reminding Marisa that they were discussing California. Good. That subject was far less troublesome than the thought of love at first sight and the way it could turn into a living nightmare.

“But so is the Hill Country. I'm glad I have a chance to see it.” Blake looked around, as if he were viewing Dupree's sole park for the first time. Though no more than a city block in size, it was large enough for a town with a population of just under six hundred. Trees lined the perimeter, but the center had been cleared to accom
modate Dupree's holiday celebrations, when parades culminated in patriotic speeches and songs. At other times of the year, the park was the site of parties like this one.

“You've never been here before?” The sense of instant recognition had lingered, niggling at the back of Marisa's mind all the time she'd been glazing the cakes and stashing platters of food into Greg's SUV.

“No.” Blake appeared surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you look familiar. I can't explain it, but when I first walked into the office, I thought I'd seen you before.”

Though he'd met her gaze a second before, Blake looked away as he shook his head. “That's unlikely. You haven't been to San Francisco, I've never been to Atlanta, and this is my first day in Texas. I'm sure we haven't met.” He raised his eyes and grinned. “Trust me. I'd remember if I'd met you.”

The warm smile sent a flush to Marisa's cheeks, almost distracting her from her continuing sense of déjà vu. Everything Blake said made sense, and yet . . . Marisa brushed her doubts aside. There was only one logical explanation. “It must have been my imagination.”

It was definitely her imagination that Blake seemed relieved.

A
t least she hadn't been invited to the wedding. Though she wished Kate and Greg every happiness, Lauren knew she wasn't ready to watch another couple exchange vows. “In sickness and in health.” Simple but powerful words. Just the thought of them made her cry.
Oh
, Patrick
, I miss you so much
. He'd been her first love, her only love, and though she would not have wanted his suffering to continue, not a day went by that she didn't wish he were still with her. Lauren squeezed her eyes closed, trying to keep tears at bay.

“C'mon, Fiona. It's time to go,” she called to her daughter as soon as she'd recovered her composure.

“It's going to be boring.” Fiona stomped one foot, which for some reason was clad in a sock that matched the other. That was the first time matching socks had happened since Lauren and Fiona had made their agreement last spring. As for the foot stomping, Lauren knew better than to ask, but she couldn't help wondering whether Fiona had sensed her mood and was reacting.

“Alice will be there, and Aunt Carmen did all the cooking.” Marisa's mother had been a godsend during Patrick's illness and
the first month after his death when Lauren had felt as if she were walking through a fog. Without being asked, Carmen had provided her version of Meals on Wheels so that Lauren didn't have to worry whether her daughter was well fed.

The second announcement put a smile on Fiona's face. “Tamales?”

“I wouldn't be surprised. The only way to know is to go.”

Locking the door behind her, Lauren turned to the right. With less than two blocks separating her house from the park, there was no point in driving. She extended her hand, planning to clasp Fiona's, but her daughter refused to walk next to her, seeming to prefer to remain two steps behind. It appeared that Fiona's normally sunny disposition had taken a leave of absence.

As they approached Pecan Street, the sound of hundreds of voices and a few barking dogs told Lauren she and Fiona would be among the last to arrive. It was no surprise that everyone in Dupree wanted to join in the celebration of Kate and Greg's wedding. After what they'd done for the town, and considering what the renovated Rainbow's End would mean to Dupree, Greg and Kate could win the Citizens of the Year award, if the town had one.

“Where's the food?” Fiona demanded as they entered the park.

“I imagine it's in the big tent.” One of the large white tents that seemed to be a staple of outdoor celebrations filled the center of the park, while dozens of bistro-style tables and chairs were arranged around its perimeter to supplement the family-sized picnic tables clustered in the far corner. “We'll go there as soon as we talk to the bride and groom.”

Fiona nodded as Lauren led them to the tail of the receiving line. “I like Mr. Greg. I wanted him to be my daddy.”

“I know you did, but he loves Miss Kate.” Perhaps the fact that Greg had married someone else was the reason for Fiona's disgruntled mood.

Tugging on Lauren's hand, Fiona waited until Lauren looked at her before she spoke. When she did, her voice was filled with urgency. “When are you going to find me another daddy?”

“I don't know, honey. We have to wait for God to send us one.” She wouldn't tell Fiona that, though the Matchers claimed otherwise, she wasn't convinced that God intended her to marry again.

“I'm tired of waiting. Do you think you'll find one by Christmas?”

Though it was still a few weeks before the first anniversary of Patrick's death, Lauren knew that a year was a very long time for a child of seven, and the hole that Patrick had left in her life was huge. Lauren wished there were something she could say to comfort her daughter, but the only words Fiona wanted to hear would have been a lie. Lauren could not promise that a second daddy would share Christmas with them.

To Lauren's relief, Alice Kozinski spotted Fiona and pushed her way through the crowd toward her. “My mom saved space for you and Fiona,” the blonde-haired girl who was an inch shorter and three inches wider than Fiona told Lauren, pointing to the picnic tables at the north end of the park. “She said receiving lines weren't for kids.”

“Can I go?” Fiona's question came out as a plea, and Lauren found herself nodding. Susan Kozinski had a point.

“I'll join you as soon as I can,” she told her daughter. “You know the rules.”

“Yes, Mom. Don't leave without telling you where we're going. Don't talk to strangers. And never, never cross the street without looking.”

Lauren was smiling when she reached the end of the receiving line. Only a curmudgeon wouldn't smile at the sight of the new Mr. and Mrs. Vange, whose happiness was readily apparent to everyone. After she'd congratulated the bride and groom, she made her way to the food tent, not surprised when Carmen told her that Fiona had had no interest in anything other than tamales. According to Carmen, Alice and Fiona had been talking nonstop all the while Fiona loaded her plate with her favorite food. Lauren could feel herself relaxing at the realization that whatever had been bothering her daughter was forgotten.

She stepped outside the tent, stopping for a second to let her eyes adjust to the sunshine.

“Lauren,” a man called. “I was hoping to see you.”

Her blinking had more to do with being startled than the sun's rays. What was
he
doing here? There was no mistaking the blond, blue-eyed man with the California tan who'd annoyed virtually everyone he'd met the last time he'd come to Dupree.

Lauren moved to the side, hoping Drew Carroll would disappear. He did not. And so she raised an eyebrow. “I didn't think anything would bring you back to Dupree,” she said, keeping her voice as cool as the ice cubes that were even now melting in her glass. “I guess Greg's wedding was important enough for you to forget how much you disliked this—what was it you called it?—pathetic excuse for a town.” Though Lauren knew Dupree had its shortcomings, she would not allow a man who hadn't bothered to look beneath the surface to denigrate it, especially a man like Drew Carroll.

He smiled, a white-toothed smile that appeared to radiate sincerity but only served to deepen Lauren's distrust. This was the man who'd ignored Rainbow's End's clearly posted no-alcohol rule, apparently believing that rules did not apply to multimillionaires.

“Did you ever consider that I might have come to see you?”

“Never. That would happen when not just pigs but elephants fly.”

“Dumbo's an elephant, and he flies.” As a small hand tugged on hers, Lauren looked down at her daughter and guessed she had been sent to escort her to the Kozinski table.

“You're right, sweetheart. I forgot about Dumbo,” Lauren said, her smile fading when she returned her gaze to Drew. “Do you remember my daughter?”

“Of course I . . .” As she raised her eyebrow again, the lie died on his lips. “No, I don't.”

Of course he didn't. The day they'd met, it had been apparent that Drew had no time for anyone under the age of twenty-five.

“This is Fiona,” she said. Turning to her daughter, Lauren completed the introduction. “This is Mr. Carroll.”

Fiona tugged on Lauren's hand again. “Our table's over there.” She pointed to the last row, where Alice was seated with her parents and baby Liam. “Alice and me want to play on the swings. Her mom says it's okay.”

“Alice and I,” Lauren corrected automatically. “All right, but be careful.” Fiona had a tendency to swing too high. “I'll be with you in a few minutes.”

It wouldn't take longer than that to dismiss Drew. But she hadn't counted on his tenacity. He gestured toward the plate he held and an empty table for two. “Will you join me? If I thought it would work, I'd claim it was your civic duty, but since I doubt that would convince you, I'll resort to the truth: I'd enjoy your company.”

Though she wanted to refuse, Lauren hesitated. The first time she'd met Drew Carroll, she'd formed an instant dislike for the brash Californian. This was the same man, and yet he seemed different. While no one would call him self-effacing, he appeared less arrogant, and though she might be misreading it, Lauren thought that was pain she saw in his eyes. If she understood one thing, it was pain and the way a friendly gesture could assuage it.

“All right. I'll be back in a minute.” When she'd made her excuses to the Kozinskis and endured Susan's knowing smile at the sight of Drew, Lauren returned to the table he'd appropriated. Unrolling her napkin, she looked up at him. “I assume you attended the ceremony.”

He appeared amused by the question. “You could say that. I crashed it.”

“What?” It was not the response Lauren had anticipated. Even though the guest list was small, surely he would have been on it. “You're Greg's partner.”

“Past tense. I haven't spoken to him since right after Easter.” Drew took a bite of tamale, chewing carefully before he added, “After seeing them together last spring, I'm not surprised that he married Kate, but I am surprised by the secrecy. As far as I can tell, no one in California knows he was getting married. Even though he's no longer part of the company, Greg Vange's wedding is newsworthy.”

Lauren sipped her tea, considering her response. She forced a smile when one of the Matchers walked by, eyeing Drew. The only good thing she could say about the woman's curiosity was that she'd buy at least one item when she came to HCP on Monday to learn whatever she could about Lauren's companion.

“I don't think they wanted media attention,” she told Drew when the woman was out of earshot. “They want publicity for Rainbow's End, not their personal lives.”

“I can't blame them for that. What surprises me is how much Greg has changed.”

Lauren couldn't comment on that, because she hadn't known Greg before he'd sold his software company and come to Texas, and so she said only, “People do change.”

After he'd washed down his tamale with a long slug of iced tea, Drew tipped his head to the side, as if evaluating her statement. “You think so?”

“I know so. I'm not the same person I was a year ago.” Why had she said that? Half an hour ago she hadn't even liked this man, and now she was discussing her personal life with him. Drew was a virtual stranger, but when he nodded, encouraging her to continue, Lauren knew she had to explain.

“Everything changed when Patrick died. It wasn't just being a widow.” Although that was bad enough. “Being a single parent is much harder than I realized.”

“Especially since you've got your business to run.”

Lauren was surprised by the astute comment. Few in Dupree realized how much of a drain HCP was on her energy. Some days just smiling at customers felt like a herculean task. But Drew knew. As part owner of Sys=Simpl, he understood the demands. Of course, his software firm was far larger than her quilt shop.

“There were some tough weeks,” she admitted. “But I'm fortunate that I love what I do, because it's what puts food on the table.” Patrick hadn't worked long enough to earn a pension, and uncovered medical expenses had exhausted their savings. “I don't
imagine you've ever been worried about that.” Lauren doubted that Drew's life was perfect—no one's was—but at least he had no financial concerns.

“Not recently,” he agreed, “but there are other worries.”

“Like what?”

“Like whether someone else will come up with a better product and we'll lose all our clients.”

That was one worry Lauren didn't have. There were no other quilt shops in Dupree. “Is that likely?”

“If Greg were still part of the company, I'd say no. Now . . .” Drew paused, and his eyes grew somber. “I don't know.” Shaking his head, he said, “That's much too gloomy a subject for today. Let's talk about you instead.”

Lauren had already told him more than she'd intended. “I'd rather hear about life in California.”

One subject led to another, and before Lauren knew it, they'd discussed everything from favorite movies to white-water rafting to red versus green chili. She stood up occasionally to look at the swings, and when it was apparent that Fiona was still having fun with Alice, she sat back down. But now, as the crowd began to thin, Lauren knew it was time to leave.

“I'd better get my daughter. She's on a sugar high, and I need to get her home before she crashes.”

Drew rose and pulled out Lauren's chair for her, then walked with her toward the swings. The number of curious glances their progress elicited told Lauren that Monday would be a banner day at HCP. She wondered if Drew was finding being the center of attention as annoying as she was. Before she could say anything, he turned toward her. “Can I buy you dinner tonight?”

Though the thought was strangely appealing, coming as it did from a man she'd thought she disliked an hour ago, Lauren knew there was only one possible answer. “I'm afraid not. I've got to work tonight.”