Love Inspired May 2015 #1 (33 page)

She had to make this man, this man she was starting to care way too much about despite their differences, she had to make him understand why this meant so much to her.

They settled on the wooden bench, placed strategically by one of her grandparents for optimum views of both the pond and the garden.

He indicated with a motion of his head that he was ready to listen to her.

Spring wasn't quite sure where to begin and told him just that.

“Then start at the beginning,” he said.

Her laugh sounded to her ears more bitter than humor filled. “That, my friend, would take all night.”

“I don't mind.”

The softly spoken words startled her, and she tucked a foot under herself as she faced him. For a moment, she said nothing, just stared into eyes that held no censure. What she saw was patience and promise and something else she recognized: gentleness and understanding. Maybe David Camden, and what his company represented, was not the enemy as she'd initially perceived him at the planning commission meeting. Maybe he was simply a man who believed in what he did as strongly as she believed in the causes and programs that were her own personal passions.

And maybe the beginning is where she needed to start.

“My sisters and I,” she began, “grew up in a wealthy family. But we were all taught from a very young age that to whom much is given, much is required. Summer, Winter, Autumn and I learned by the examples set for us by our parents and grandparents. Giving to the community in some form or fashion wasn't just expected—it was simply part of having the Darling last name.”

When he nodded, she continued. “My father and grandfather were doctors who worked long hours, and their wives, my mother and grandmother, were far from simply the garden club ladies who lunched. Granted, Lovie does both and in style, but she also gets her hands dirty.” She smiled. “You're probably wondering what this has to do with anything.”

He reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

Her mouth quirked up in amusement at that as she contemplated their joined hands.

“How old were you when you had Jeremy?”

“Is that your roundabout way of asking how old I am? I'm thirty-six. Jeremy is four.”

“I'm thirty-five,” she said. “When I was a little girl, there was no doubt that I would be a doctor. That's all I ever wanted to do. But I also assumed I'd have a family, a husband and children to share my life. When I started college, I knew that by thirty-two—the age you were when Jeremy was born—I just knew for sure that I would be living the white-picket-fence life. Preferably here at the farmhouse because of course the man I married would want to live here,” she added with a small, wry laugh. “But it didn't happen that way for me. And so when I finished medical school, I gave all of my energy to the work that I loved. That meant building not just my career, but my community. Before long, that's all there was. It's who I am and what I am.”

“You're wrong, Spring,” he said, the words so quiet she would have missed them had she not been sitting right next to him. “You're more than how you fill the hours of each day.”

“I know,” she said. “I have my family, my sisters and mother, good friends, an active church community—”

He paused the rush of words with a finger at her mouth.

“Do you know why I was first attracted to you?”

Her eyes darted across his features, indicating the confusion his words wrought.

He chuckled. “Now you're wondering if I've changed the subject.”

She tugged a bit in order to release his hand from hers, but he held on tighter, forcing her to remain seated beside him on the bench even though his intensity made her want to flee.

A moment later he released her hand. Spring didn't move from her spot on the seat.

He continued talking as if the little tug-of-war hadn't happened. “You were beautiful and the MD on your lab coat assured me that you would see to my son's health and well-being. But I saw something else in you,” David told her. “I saw an innate goodness. That's something that can't be playacted. It's either there or it isn't. And I saw it in abundance in you.”

“David...”

“Let me finish,” he said, taking her hand again, this time letting her palm rest in his. “We clearly don't see eye to eye on this project. But I'd like to believe I have an open mind. Tell me something, Spring. Was this so-called Magnolia Supper Club intervention the only reason you invited me to dinner?”

“That's what I was trying to tell you in the car as we drove out here. I...” She paused for a moment, got her thoughts together. This was the crux of it in one simple question. She knew that a lot was riding on her answer. He wasn't just talking about a municipal development versus historic preservation. The question was personal, and she knew it. It was about them, just the two of them. Spring and David as individuals. As a couple.

A couple?

A part of her wanted to hedge. It could all go horribly wrong. And probably would. But she wanted to take the chance. Wasn't life about taking chances, the road less traveled and all of that? It had taken years to mend her heart after it had been broken the last time. Until David Camden and that sweetheart of a son of his had walked into the Common Ground Free Clinic, she hadn't noticed a man, not dared to expose her heart to the possibility of love. But now? Now she was willing to take that chance, make that leap.

“No. It's not the only reason I invited you,” she answered him, taking the jump and hoping a net or some feathers or something soft would break her fall.

Chapter Twelve

T
hat conversation marked a turning point for them. When they returned to the house, it was to find anxious faces waiting for them.

“We decided to be adult about this,” David said.

Gerald slumped with relief into the wing-back chair where he'd been perched with a demitasse cup. “Oh, thank goodness. We were beginning to wonder if one of you had murdered the other out there.”

“Nothing so dramatic,” Spring said. “Did you save any biscotti?”

With the air clear in the room and another tray of biscotti passed around, David asked for more information about the history of Cedar Springs.

It was close to midnight when they finally arrived back in the parking lot at David's hotel. He walked her to her car.

“Thank you for an...interesting evening,” he said.

“I'm sorry. Really sorry.”

“Water under the bridge,” he assured her. “After the drama, I actually learned quite a bit. Information that I didn't know, wouldn't have guessed and that my team back in Charlotte hadn't discovered.”

Spring groaned, and her shoulders slumped. “I've made things worse for us. I suppose this is a just punishment for being dishonest with you. You're going full speed ahead with your plans to—”

He halted her words with a finger on her lips again, and a heartbeat later his finger was replaced by his mouth on hers.

The kiss was so light and sweet that Spring responded before realizing just what she was doing—kissing him back.

He released her and took a step back. “My plans haven't changed, Spring. And neither have yours. What's changed between us is that we're each a little more willing to see the other's perspective on the matter.”

“That's true,” she said, wondering at the almost breathless voice she barely recognized as her own.

“Since you insist on apologizing, how about a proper one?”

She eyed him with sudden suspicion. “What exactly do you mean?”

“A date,” he said. “A real one. Just the two of us. With no talk of my work or yours the entire time.”

She grinned and held her hand out. He clasped it in his.

“Deal,” she said.

* * *

That Saturday they both conceded that who they were and what they were would probably seep into their conversation at some point, but they would use any such moment to discuss their differences rationally.

It was a great plan and would have worked had they not stopped by Step Back in Time Antiques. She'd mentioned the antique train set that was on display at the store and how it had reminded her of Jeremy that very first night. Then to discover one of his favorite books was about a train—they had to stop and see it, she said.

Gerald Murphy saw them and waved them in with a frantic wave.

“Spring, David. You aren't going to believe what's happened,” he wailed.

Alarmed, Spring grabbed her friend's arm. “What's happened?”

“A burglary!” he said, ushering them deeper into the store.

“No,” Spring exclaimed. “Not again. What was taken?”

“Not here,” Gerald said. “Down the street at Object d'Art. It happened the night of our dinner. This is horrible, just horrible. What's happened to our lovely little city?”

Richard came out of the office with a plump woman in her midfifties behind him and assessed the situation. He tucked his reading glasses on top of his head. “Well, I see Gerald has shared the disturbing news.”

“Hi, Annette,” Spring said. She quickly introduced David to both Richard and his wife, then asked, “What happened?”

“It was horrible!” Gerald said. “I think I need something to calm my nerves.”

“Try some tea,” Spring intoned drily. “Tea Time down the street has a specialty blend that's just what the doctor ordered.”

Gerald huffed and turned back toward the office, leaving his business partner to fill in the details of the city's crime spree.

Richard shook his head. “He needs a vacation.”

“He needs a wife,” Annette said.

“What woman would have him? She'd have to be a neurotic hypochondriac like him or they'd make each other crazy.”

“Maddie Powers is perfect for him,” Annette said.

Spring all but stamped her foot. “Richard, what happened at the art gallery?”

The antiques dealer sighed. “The same sort of thing that happened to us,” he said. “The police said a person or persons unknown broke in about nine o'clock. Walked in, selected three pieces—one of them on loan from the Tate's modern art collection. Poor Allison,” he said. “She had to call Miranda and tell her what happened.”

Spring filled in the blanks for David. “Allison is the gallery's assistant manager. She's been holding down the fort, so to speak, while the owner has been recuperating from an illness. And the Tate is a British—”

“I'm familiar with its museums and galleries.”

“What in the world is going on around here?”

Annette hustled to the Hepplewhite writing desk that served as the store's checkout area. David's gaze followed her, and his eyes widened. He stood gaping at the piece of furniture.

“Reproduction, right?”

Annette laughed. “Hardly. Thank goodness our burglars didn't have your eye.”

“Is it...?”

“Not for sale,” Richard said, coming up behind him with Spring. “And with these crimes suddenly plaguing downtown, we may move it to the house.”

“Here it is,” Annette said as she handed a flier to Spring. “The police came by with this. Chief Llewelyn has called an open meeting for merchants and residents to provide information about the incidents.”

Spring read the flier and handed it to David, who read it without comment.

“Are you going?” Spring asked.

“Of course. We were the first victims, and we hope poor Allison and Miranda were the last.”

When Spring and David returned to her car, Spring sat at the wheel in silence for a bit.

“What are you thinking?”

“Thoughts that I'd rather not,” she said. “I was thinking about something Cecelia and I saw the other day.” She relayed the information about Sweet Willie out on Orchard Road.

“You think he's a thief?”

Spring shook her head. “No. But these burglaries and what we were talking about at the supper club, about the squatters, it seems...” She shrugged. “I don't know. Not necessarily connected. But related. I want to check on something out at the farm if you don't mind.”

“The farm?”

“The farmhouse, or rather the land and buildings around it,” she clarified.

Spring leaned over and looked at his feet. “What kind of shoes are you wearing?”

“Loafers, why?”

She frowned. “Those won't do.” She peered closer at his legs and feet.

“Spring?”

“I think Dad's waders will fit you.”

“Waders? Where are we going?”

She straightened and started the car. “To check a hunch.”

* * *

More than two hours later, that hunch paid off. She'd parked her car at the farmhouse and swapped it for a battered but excellently running pickup truck that she backed out of the garage. Her father's old hip waders did fit David, who was still asking exactly what they were doing.

“A land survey,” Spring said. “Right up your alley.”

From the house she retrieved a rolled-up map that she tossed on the dash of the pickup.

“We're going to do something that we—my sisters and I—should have been doing for some time. Inspecting the outbuildings on Darling land. We have someone who comes to tend to the house and the land immediately around it, but, as you know, most of this is undeveloped and there are plenty of seemingly abandoned buildings.”

“How much land are we talking about?”

She glanced at him. “About five hundred acres.”

They found what they were looking for not in the outermost buildings, but tucked in the easily overlooked middle section of the property.

“You know,” David said, “I kept looking at this area on the Google Earth image. The elevation seemed unnaturally high for this topography.”

Spring sighed as they looked at the old building. “This area isn't a true switchback. But as you saw, the road isn't a road and has curves, just close enough that everyone knows what we mean.”

“When were you last here?”

“Never,” Spring said. “That's why I brought the map that has all of the outbuildings marked. We need to call the police. Something tells me they're going to be really interested in this.”

The building, which had the look of an old bunkhouse for field laborers, was chockablock full of large boxes that very clearly had not been sitting empty for the past thirty or so years. The electronic equipment they discovered in one was further proof that the space was being used as some sort of illicit, and very modern, storage facility.

While they waited for the police to arrive, Spring called her mother, her sisters, the family's lawyer and a Durham-based security firm.

The responding officers alerted the police chief, who personally came out to the scene. Several hours later, after answering questions from both Chief Llewelyn and his investigating officer, and then with those officers inspecting all the other outbuildings on the family's land, the five Darling women, Cameron Jackson and David Camden gathered at the farmhouse. In the country kitchen, Summer sliced apples for pies, Autumn Darling paced the room and Lovie Darling sat at the table asking the same question they'd been asking each other and the police for several hours.

“How could this have happened? A burglary ring using my property as a warehouse.”

“Easily enough,” Cameron said, filching an apple slice from his fiancée's bowl of sliced apples. She slapped his hand away, but he grinned and planted a kiss on her cheek. “No one is out here on any sort of regular basis.”

“Well, that's clearly changing as of immediately,” Autumn said. “I'll move my stuff out here in the morning.”

“Out of the question,” Lovie said. “Those criminals are sure to be back looking for their stuff.”

“By this time, I'm sure they know it's been confiscated,” Spring said. “And I've already contracted with a firm for twenty-four-hour patrols until we can decide what to do on a more permanent basis.”

Lovie glanced at Summer, who was adding cinnamon, sugar and lemon juice to the bowl. “Sweetheart, I think you've baked enough pies for one evening.”

Summer looked at the counter, where five apple pies were cooling. “Nervous energy,” she said. “I'll take them to Manna tomorrow.”

Cameron stuck his arm out and pushed two of them away from the others. “These are mine.”

“I have to give it to you, Spring,” David said. “Your hunch played out, and you sure do offer a guy interesting dates.”

“Dates?” several voices said in unison as inquiring and incredulous gazes moved between Spring and the architect.

Blabbermouth
, Spring thought.

* * *

The discovery of the stolen goods warehouse and the second downtown burglary, while not directly related, according to police, dominated the front-page reports in the next issue of the
Cedar Springs Gazette
. The fireworks from the planning commission meeting over the development plans was relegated to the third page.

The police chief's community meeting was moved from the multipurpose room at city hall to the auditorium at the high school to accommodate the crowd. And David returned to Charlotte to see to some business with his firm.

He and Spring talked almost every night and twice Spring read bedtime stories to Jeremy, her voice coming through speakerphone on David's mobile lulling the boy to sleep.

One evening David brought up the proverbial elephant in the room—in their deepening relationship.

“My team has drafted some plans, Spring. We'll be returning to Cedar Springs to present the options to city staff and the council. I wanted you to know ahead of time.”

“I see,” she said. “That was awfully fast.”

“Spring, I'm telling you because I think you'll be pleased with what we've come up with. Driving around your land, hearing the stories about the city's history, those things helped me a lot.”

“Gee, thanks,” Spring said.

“Sarcasm doesn't suit you,” he said.

That did it. “And how would you know what suits me, David?”

“Spring, you're upset...”

“Ya think?”

“This is why I wanted to have this conversation in person. I knew the phone was a mistake.”

“Everything about this so-called relationship has been a mistake,” she snapped back at him.

“Don't say that. You don't mean it. I know you don't.”

Spring shook her head even though she knew he couldn't see her. “Goodbye, David.”

“Spring, wait!”

She sighed. “What?”

“I really think you'll like what I've come up with.”

She held the phone away from her ear as if he were talking in an ancient tongue. And then she did what she'd thought about doing from time to time with various people through the years. She hung up on him.

* * *

“So,” Autumn Darling said as she worked out on the elliptical next to Spring's the next day. “I miss one cheesecake confab at Summer's only to discover that Winter's been dating a criminal and you've hooked up with the man trying to turn the farmhouse into a condo and fast-food development.”

Spring groaned. This morning workout with her baby sister at F.I.T., the gym Autumn co-owned with two other fitness freaks, was supposed to be cathartic, not a source of more stress. She wiped her brow with the small towel draped over her shoulder, then moved from the elliptical next to Autumn and onto a rowing machine.

“First, Winter is not seeing a criminal. It was two dates and she dumped him as soon as she figured it out. And for the record, I have not ‘hooked up' with anyone.”