Willowleaf Lane (12 page)

“You haven’t said what it is,” Mary Ella pointed out. “What do you need?”

Charlotte’s fingers fumbled with the crystal she was trying to pick up. She was nervous, she realized, afraid they would think the idea was stupid. She hated these moments when her confidence seemed as tiny and hard to manage as the blasted seed beads.

“It’s Spencer Gregory’s idea, actually. He enlisted my help, for obvious reasons.”

Alex looked intrigued. “Obvious reasons? What obvious reason would Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory have for asking your help?”

Charlotte could feel herself blush, which only made Alex look at her more curiously. “Why, Dylan, of course,” she answered.

She was screwing this up. These were her friends, women she loved and admired, and she had no reason to be nervous to talk about anything with them.

She drew in a breath and tried again. “He had this idea. Spencer, I mean. I think it’s a wonderful one but it’s something that will take a great deal of effort to organize, and we’ll need community support. That’s where you all come in, if you’re willing to get behind it.”

“Why would we want to get behind a drug dealer?” Ruth Tatum, Claire’s mother, spoke with her usual blunt negativity.

Charlotte usually tolerated the older woman and sometimes even found her amusing, rather like a crusty old man constantly yelling at all the kids in town to stay off his lawn, but in this case she wanted to accidentally stick a headpin in the cranky old biddy.

“Ruthie, let’s hear the idea before we jump in and say we oppose it.” Mary Ella’s voice was calm, serene, as if she were addressing a seventh-hour class full of bored and restless teenagers.

Charlotte deeply admired the woman’s class and style. She didn’t wonder that Harry Lange had fallen hard for her. The only mystery was why Mary Ella returned his affection.

“As you all know very well, the recreation center is open now and people seem to be enjoying it. Harry did a good thing for Hope’s Crossing.”

“He has been known to do a good thing here and there,” Mary Ella murmured.

Looking amused, Maura cleared her throat in a meaningful way that Charlotte didn’t quite understand.

“Anyway, Spencer had the idea of taking these great resources, both the recreation facilities at the center and the natural resources around Hope’s Crossing, and opening them up to a wider population. He would like to start an adaptive recreation therapy program for injured veterans.”

Nobody said anything, they only watched her, and she felt itchy and uncomfortable, wishing she knew what they were thinking.

“I know it’s ambitious. Spence has done a great deal of research over the weekend and he believes it’s feasible. The first major task would be constructing some lodging near the recreation center. He’s thinking several small wheelchair-accessible cabins on that strip of land near the river.”

“That won’t be cheap,” Katherine pointed out.

“No, but I was thinking we can use volunteer labor for some of the work. Like we do with Habitat for Humanity. You and Jack help out with that, don’t you, Maura?”

“When we can,” Maura answered. Charlotte knew now that Maura and Jack had a small active one-year-old as well as her bookstore and his architectural firm, their schedules were hectic.

“I realize we just finished our Giving Hope Day, which is a really wonderful way to help each other. I love that about our community, and I think it’s safe to say everyone else who lives here loves it, too. Hope’s Crossing is such a warm, friendly place. Don’t you think we could reach out now and take that same spirit of caring to others? Offer a little lift to many who have sacrificed a great deal for our sakes?” she finished in a rush, then held her breath, waiting for their reaction.

Katherine Thorne was the first to speak. “Recreation therapy for wounded veterans. How could that help?”

Charlotte thought of the information she had scrutinized the night before and her own research online, long into the night when she should have been sleeping.

“Similar programs have been amazingly effective, providing safe, comfortable, fun opportunities for them to heal and to push the limits of their capabilities. Spence is suggesting adaptive skiing and snowboarding in the winter and the rest of the year focusing on water sports like boating, fishing, waterskiing. Hope’s Crossing is beautifully situated to take great advantage of our natural resources as well as the innate welcoming kindness that resides here.”

Katherine pursed her lips. “Spencer Gregory came up with this?”

“It was his daughter’s idea at first. Dylan and I were having dinner at the café the other night while Spence and Peyton were there. She asked me what happened to him. I gave her the short version, then when Spence was talking about how he would like to expand the recreation center’s mission, she suggested something to help wounded veterans like Dylan.

“What a thoughtful girl,” Mary Ella said.

“She is,” Charlotte answered.

Katherine gazed at Charlotte, forehead furrowed a little. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t thrilled when Harry threw his weight around, as he tends to do—I’m sorry, Mary Ella, you know he does—about bringing Spencer Gregory back to town. After everything he’s done, I didn’t see why we had to entrust him with that kind of responsibility. But if these are the kinds of ideas he has, I’m a big enough woman to admit I might have been wrong.”

Some of the tension in Charlotte’s shoulders eased at what amounted to a bold declaration of support. Katherine was on the Hope’s Crossing city council and gracefully wielded plenty of influence of her own.

“Thank you, Katherine. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. As Spence rightfully pointed out to me last night, we should look at the merits of the idea itself, not the personal history of the man who wants to make it a reality.”

As she spoke, she felt that stab of sympathy for him again. How difficult it must be to have no choice but to face his mistakes everywhere he turned.

“I mentioned to him that you might be in a position to help fast-track any necessary building permits.”

“I don’t know about that but I can probably bring Mayor Beaumont around.”

“Thank you. I’ll let him know.”

She turned. “Mary Ella?”

The other woman gave her a long considering look that would have made her nervous if she didn’t catch a hint of amusement in the depths of her green eyes. “Let me guess. You want me to convince Harry this is a good idea.”

“Yes,” she said shamelessly. “Spence planned to talk to him this morning but I didn’t think it would hurt to appeal to the real power brokers in Hope’s Crossing.”

Mary Ella and Katherine both laughed roughly. “Is that what we are?” Mary Ella asked.

“Why not? The women at this table take care of business. You don’t wait around for somebody to tell you what to do. You dig in and do it yourself.”

It was true and she loved them all for it.

“Well, I think it
is
a good idea. I love this community but I’m not sure we always have our arms as open wide to outsiders as we ought. We can sometimes be too insular, I think. I’ve heard that from new people moving into town,” Mary Ella said.

“I didn’t see that at all,” Janie said. “You all welcomed me from the very beginning.”

Mary Ella smiled at her and touched her hand softly with one of hers. “I’m glad. But there’s always room to improve. This could be an excellent way to take that spirit of hope and caring we’ve had the past few years and help people outside of Hope’s Crossing.”

Charlotte nodded, more of that fine tension seeping away. Why was she ever worried? Even if her friends had hated the idea, they would have been kind in their rejection of it. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“What do you need from us?” Claire asked, always ready to step up, even though she was in the last weeks of her pregnancy.

“Spencer is still in the very early planning stages. He came over last night with pages of research he’s done on similar organizations. He’s talking about committing funds from his own charity and talking to friends in professional sports who might be looking for a cause.”

She tried to push away the memory of everything else that had happened the night before but it seeped in anyway.
That
was the real reason she had spent the night awake, trying to distract herself from the warmth and wonder of his kiss.

“Do you think Harry might be on board?” she asked quickly. “Without his support, we all know this idea won’t go anywhere, no matter how worthwhile the cause.”

Mary Ella looked pensive. “I can’t answer that with certainty but I could easily see Harry supporting something like this. I won’t mention that I have ways of bringing him around to my way of thinking.”

“Please don’t,” Alex urged.

Mary Ella laughed. “I don’t think I need to resort to them. Harry and I have talked before about starting some sort of organization to help people outside of Hope’s Crossing. And unfortunately, when it comes to wounded soldiers, the need just seems endless, doesn’t it?”

“I think it’s a great idea, too,” Katherine said. “I’m ready to help in whatever ways you need.”

“Same here,” her daughter-in-law, Evie, said. “I’m sure I could convince Brodie to host a fund-raiser at one of his restaurants or cater something at the ski resort.”

“I mentioned to Spence we might be able to turn to you for advice in a professional capacity.”

“I don’t know about that.” Evie shifted in her chair. “I’m a pediatric therapist, remember. I have no experience with wounded veterans.”

“True, but you have far more knowledge about rehabilitating people with injuries, especially brain injuries, than anyone I know. I think your help would be invaluable in coming up with the kinds of activities that would be both effective and fun.”

“I would have to talk to some of my connections in therapy circles. I can make some calls and see if I can find someone a little more qualified who might be willing to consult on a pro bono basis.”

Ruth remained silent, which Charlotte considered another victory.

“Thank you. Thank you, all.” Charlotte felt a little teary as she looked around the beading table full of women she admired and loved who were immediately ready to jump in and help, simply because she asked it of them.

She thought of Dylan, lost and isolated up in his mountain retreat. Why couldn’t he see the healing peace that opening his life and his heart to others could bring?

The other night at the café, he had implied that no one could help a wounded soldier except somebody who had gone through the same thing. Now that the project was moving from a vague idea to something more concrete, would he be willing to see the benefits? Or would he continue to tell her she was wasting her time?

Maybe, just maybe, this might be a way for her brother to move outside of his own pain to help ease someone else’s.

CHAPTER TEN

B
Y
THE
TIME
she finished working at the shop that day, her ankle throbbed and she desperately wanted nothing more than to throw on her most comfortable nightgown, incline her foot on some plump pillows and find something brainless to watch on television for the rest of the evening.

As she turned onto Willowleaf Lane, the small gift basket full of fudge and a certain turquoise and rose memory wire bracelet seemed to flash a big blinking neon sign pointing at her.

Me. Me. Me.

She frowned at the thing. Later. She could drop it off another night. She was tired and achy and was quite certain she didn’t have the emotional strength to handle another encounter with Spence tonight.

She drove past the house he and Peyton were renting but the neon seemed to become more garish, to blink more insistently.

She hated leaving things like this undone. She had gone to all the trouble to make the bracelet and package it with a few pieces of a new flavor of fudge, white chocolate and lemon, which she thought Peyton might like. Now she needed to follow through and actually
give
it to the girl.

It would only take a moment to stop at the house, hand the basket to Peyton, then be on her way. With luck, she wouldn’t even see Spence. And if she did, she could update him on the enthusiastic response from her friends to A Warrior’s Hope. It was the neighborly thing to do, she told herself. No ulterior motives, she was simply being kind, trying to help Peyton feel better about the move.

As part of her efforts at rebuilding herself, she was trying hard to force herself to face all the things that made her nervous. This past winter, she had gone skiing, even though it had been many years since she had braved the slopes. She had bought a punch pass for ten all-day lift passes and had used all but two of them, which she had given to one of her brothers.

She had taken a karate class and quite enjoyed it.

She had even agreed to chair a committee on the library board to help finance new computers.

She had been brave enough to do those things. How hard was it to find the courage to face Spence again, for the sake of a girl who could use a friend or two?

With a heavy sigh, she turned around in her driveway, gave a hasty wave to Tucker, who was peeking at her over her backyard fence, then drove the short distance back to Spence’s house.

She grabbed the crutches—only a couple more days on those, yea—and climbed out of her car, then hooked the basket over her hand and walked up the sidewalk.

She could do this. So they had kissed. So her world had been slightly rocked on its axis. So she had spent all night and most of the day remembering it.

That didn’t mean things had to be awkward.

Ha.

She rang the doorbell and waited, trying to do the circle breathing she had learned in her yoga class. In through her nose for five counts, hold for five counts, out through her mouth for five counts.

She was on her third round of exhales when the door swung open and Peyton answered, her cell phone in her hand.

Her eyes widened when she saw Charlotte, and she actually stopped texting and shoved her phone in the pocket of her jean shorts.

“Hi there,” Charlotte said with casual cheer. “May I come in?”

Peyton shrugged. “I guess. My dad’s not home, though, if you came to see him.”

She told herself she completely imagined that stab of disappointment. “Oh. That’s okay. I’m here to see you anyway.”

Peyton looked surprised and a little suspicious, which was probably a healthy trait in a young girl. “Me? Why?”

“You’re probably going to think this is weird but I made you something.” She held out the basket. “I went to the bead store for a birthday party today and this was the project my friend Claire had for us. As soon as I saw the colors, I thought of that shirt you were wearing the other night, with the flowers around the neckline. I don’t have anything that matches those colors nearly as well. I thought you might like it.”

Peyton continued to look suspicious but also a little flattered. Maybe she should have talked to Spencer first to make sure he didn’t mind her giving his child something small.

“You really made this?”

“These are super easy. It’s just a matter of stringing the beads onto the wire and closing the ends. The wire is cool because it stays into the shape you bend it. It’s called memory wire and it works really well for bracelets
or
necklaces. My friend Claire’s daughter, Macy, makes these very cute rings, too, out of seed beads and a couple charm dangles. I’m sure she could show you sometime.”

“Why do you want to give it to me?”

She again felt stupid. She doubted Peyton would understand if Charlotte told her she saw a great deal of herself in Peyton. She sensed Peyton was reacting to the turmoil of her life the past few years by drawing inside herself, just as Charlotte had done.

She shrugged. “I’ve made so many bracelets for myself over the past few years, I wouldn’t be able to wear them all if I put a new one on every day for a month. And to tell you the truth, as much as I like them, bracelets aren’t very practical when I spend most of my days elbow-deep in chocolate.”

Peyton looked down at the basket and then back at Charlotte, and her wariness seemed to ease. “Wow. It’s really cool. Thanks.”

She pulled it out and put it on her left wrist, where it dangled loosely. Charlotte had tried to make the bracelet small but maybe she should have tightened it more.

Charlotte frowned, struck again at how slight the girl was—thin, angular, with those narrow shoulders and thin birdbones for wrists. She definitely needed a little fudge.

“You’re welcome.”

“How do you hang the little dragonflies on there?”

“That part’s easy. It’s the same as making earrings. You make a dangle by stringing beads on a headpin and then creating a loop at the top with your round-nose pliers, then you just put on a jump ring and hang it on your bracelets.”

“Okay, you lost me at headpin. I don’t know what that is but it doesn’t sound very easy.”

“I’m not really the expert but my friends Evie and Claire can do just about anything with beads. You ought to stop into String Fever one of these days. They love to help people make things. Earrings, necklaces. Whatever you like.”

“I’m not very artistic.” Peyton looked down at the bracelet on her wrist with a glum expression.

“Who says you’re not artistic?”

“Me. I can’t play any instruments or anything, and I almost failed art class last year. I never could draw very well. Even with crayons, my mom could never tell what I was trying to make. But I’m good at math and stuff, so it’s okay.”

Charlotte was only too well acquainted with the habit of accepting what others said about her as truth.

“I don’t believe it,” she said promptly. “We all have some spark of creativity inside us. You just haven’t found what lights yours yet.”

“I guess not.”

“Give it time. I didn’t think I was very artistic until I started dipping chocolates and making fudge and discovered I had a real talent for it. And I was a college graduate by then.”

“Really?”

“Honest. I certainly never believed I could make jewelry until I took a couple classes at String Fever. In fact,” she added, “I happened to notice Claire’s daughter is teaching a teen class in a couple weeks on making back-to-school earrings. You would love Macy. She’s about your age and is really fun.”

“Do you think I could do it?”

“Yes! I know it. You could learn the basics of beading from Macy and create something pretty in the process. Wouldn’t it be fun to make a bunch of new earrings to wear when school starts again?”

Peyton made a face. “Don’t remind me about school. It’s going to seriously suck being the new girl.”

“You’ll be fine, especially if you use opportunities like this bead class to make new friends before the year starts.”

“If I do it, will you come with me?”

The request caught her off guard. “You want me to come with you?”

“I don’t know. Forget it. I just thought, you know, so I would have at least one friend there.”

Peyton considered her a friend. Charlotte wanted to cry, like the big baby she was. “I love any excuse to spend time beading. I’d love to come. I’ll try to arrange my schedule at the store so I can take the time, as long as it’s okay with your dad. Would that work?”

“Great,” Peyton said, and she smiled. She actually
smiled.
When she did, her face lit up with a sweet, rare beauty.

“Great. I’ll plan on it.”

“Thanks again for the bracelet. It’s totally cool.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later.”

She thought about asking Peyton to tell her father Charlotte needed to talk to him about A Warrior’s Hope but decided against it. Exhaustion pulled at her after the long day, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy.

As she hobbled on the blasted crutches back to her SUV, though, the garage door started ascending and a sleek, sexy Range Rover pulled up next to her vehicle.

Drat. She hadn’t moved fast enough.

Spence climbed out wearing khakis and a black polo shirt, looking dark and dangerous.

“Charlotte! Hi.”

He smiled widely and she had the clear impression he was happy to see her. If she weren’t so darn tired, she probably wouldn’t have been weak enough to let slip the sweet burst of warmth surging through her at his smile.

“Hi,” she murmured.

The memory of their kiss the night before seemed like a living creature suddenly, silky and sinuous, entwining around and through them, tugging her toward him. She could feel herself flush and tried to block the remembrance of the taste of him, the heat of his hands on her skin.

He cleared his throat and she had to wonder if some of those images haunted him.

“We needed milk.” He held a gallon up by the handle.

“You might not know this but Hope’s Crossing has a very good delivery service. Clover Hill Dairy will bring you eggs, milk, butter, cheese. It’s quite convenient.” The dairy supplied many ingredients to Sugar Rush, though she still purchased some things through a wholesaler.

“I’ll have to look into it. Thanks.”

Her ankle throbbed and she opened her car door. “I was just leaving. I only stopped to drop something off for Peyton. A bracelet I made today at the bead store.”

He looked startled. “That was nice of you.”

She really hoped he didn’t think she was some psycho stalker, trying to get to him through his daughter.

“It’s a long story but my friend Claire made up these kits and the colors reminded me of something Peyton was wearing the other night.” She wasn’t making this better. She ought to just shut up now and leave but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t know what it’s like to move into a new town where you don’t know anybody. But I do know what it feels like to lose a mother when I was around her age.”

“Thank you, Charlotte. You’ve been more than kind. If she warms up to Hope’s Crossing, it will be in large part because you’ve made her feel welcome.”

He smiled again and she completely lost her thread of thought.

She had to stop this. She couldn’t afford to be sucked in again. She forced herself to focus. A Warrior’s Hope. Mary Ella. Katherine.

“I’m glad I caught you, actually. What happened with Harry this morning? Did you talk to him?”

“Yes. We had lunch today at the resort. I presented everything to him.”

“And?” she prompted.

“So far, so good. He wants to do some research of his own about the practicalities and the finances. I expected nothing less, but he’s offering tentative support and made a verbal commitment for a hefty amount to start building the cabins.”

“Oh, Spence. That’s wonderful.” With any of her other friends—and under any other circumstances—she would have rushed him for a hug. She couldn’t quite bring herself to be that forward with Spence. Plus the crutches...

“He seems to think we could have the funding in place to start one session by the fall and have the cabins finished by Christmas. I’m not as optimistic, but we’ll see.”

“If Harry wants something, he tends to find a way to make it happen.”

“After I spoke with him, I spent the day on the phone with some former teammates and guys I know I can count on. We’re planning a media event fund-raiser in about three weeks.”

“Wow. You and Harry have a lot in common in the getting-things-done department.”

“No reason to wait, is there? With the seed money in place, we could have at least a couple sessions before Christmas.”

“Adding to your win column here, I spoke to Mary Ella and the others today.”

“You did?”

“Everyone’s very excited about the possibilities. Several people volunteered for the organizing committee. Evie said she and Brodie would host a fund-raiser at one of his restaurants and she also agreed to reach out to some of her contacts in the rehab profession for tips on the therapy side of things.”

He looked stunned. “Seriously? I don’t know what to say.”

“I told you the people of Hope’s Crossing come together for a good cause. You would be astonished at what we can accomplish.”

“I’m already amazed. I can’t believe things are moving so fast. We’ve gone from idea to concept to reality in only a handful of days.”

“I’m glad. A Warrior’s Hope is going to be
amazing.
”

He gazed at her, his hazel eyes a glittery green right now, and she wanted to bask in the warmth of his expression like Dylan’s lazy hound dog in a pool of sunlight.

“Because of you.
You’re
the amazing one. The project never would have made it this far without you.”

Before she realized what he intended, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her. The crutches clattered to the ground with a hollow clang.

She returned the embrace briefly, convincing herself it was only because she was glad A Warrior’s Hope was coming together. It had nothing to do with how delicious he smelled—clean, masculine, sexy.

The memory of that kiss whispered into her mind again and before she could control the impulse, her gaze flicked to his mouth. In an instant, the moment changed from casual and friendly to something else, something bright and heated.