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“I assume you’re talking about high school rivalries?” he asked.
“Yep. Basketball. Personally, I’d be more excited if it were baseball, but basketball is the preferred sport in Willow’s Eve. They begin practicing before school starts, and I didn’t think teams ever did that except for football. The game on Saturday was just for practice, but they had the mascots there and everything, just as if it was for real.”
“All right, Ms. Colson,” he said quickly. “But this is a small town and I’m sure if you give me the directions to my house, I’ll be able to find it.”
“I promised the committee I’d go with you.”
“It really isn’t necessary.”
“Necessary is subjective. It may not feel necessary to you, but it is for me, because I promised. Besides, there are a few things I should show you at the house.”
Her chin was raised to a stubborn angle and Daniel weighed her determination against his own desire to be left alone.
“Very well,” he said. “But it seems a waste of your time.”
“Don’t get in a twist about it.”
Did the woman’s mouth ever stop? “I’m not in a...a twist, as you call it. I’m simply tired from traveling and want to see my new home.”
Mandy laughed. “Sorry, I was joking.”
Lord, he should have recognized the glint in her eye. But humor had been an elusive commodity in his life lately.
She walked back to the room where the ladies were clearing up their sewing project. For heaven’s sake, City Hall was being treated as a local coffee club and sewing circle. Then again, this was the Senior Center, and they could do what they liked in their area.
“I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” Mandy said to the women. “But everything is ready for the meal. If the volunteers ask, the lasagna just needs to be pulled out of the oven, and salad and dressing from the fridge. Oh, and the French bread is on the warmer above the stove.”
“Did you ask Mr. Whittier to stay for lunch?” one woman asked. “The food smells wonderful.”
“Yes,” another gray-haired woman added, looking at Daniel. “I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, but thank you,” he said. “I need to unload my car and get settled at the house.”
Some of the ladies exchanged disappointed glances. For a moment when he’d overheard their earlier conversation, he’d wondered if they had matchmaking in mind, yet after some reflection, he realized it was simply casual speculation, which was a good thing.
He didn’t want to get involved with anyone, not for a while. And when he did, it would have to be with the right kind of woman—getting involved with the wrong woman had come with a high price tag. Besides, while it was one thing to take a risk for himself, he couldn’t take the chance for his daughter. She’d been hurt enough.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_9a4b847e-b664-5669-9176-60de0de191e1)
MANDY SMILED AND greeted incoming seniors arriving for lunch as she and Daniel left the building. She could easily guess the main topic around the tables that day.... Ooh, did you see Mandy with that man? Who is he? The new city manager? What’s he like...?
In the parking lot, out of earshot, she stopped.
“It’s not too late,” she said. “You could go back and have a quick meal with everyone.”
“Thank you, but I need to say no.”
“Look, it’s none of my business, but I’ve gotten to know the people here, so I can say for sure it would be a great start for you to eat with them.”
“Maybe if I was their new activities director, but I’m the city manager.”
“This is a small town, so everyone interacts. Nothing would get you launched better than sitting around the table with Willow’s Eve’s longest residents. Heck, Caroline White is the mayor’s mother—you passed her on our way out—and Marcia Carter was Fannie Snow’s cousin, once or twice removed, but still...Fannie was important. She left all her money to the town, and her trust fund provides a big chunk of your salary.”
He sighed. “You’re probably right, but I drove all night and would like to see my house and unpack my car.”
Guilt hit Mandy. After all, while she loved to travel and wander, not everyone did. Besides, driving all night wasn’t “traveling.” It was merely transportation. “I understand. Just follow me.”
“Thank you.”
She got into her Volkswagen and led his Jeep out of the parking lot, keeping track of the trendy SUV in her rearview mirror. She took several turns and twists as she drove to the edge of town. Finally, she swung into a circular driveway and stopped in front of the huge Victorian with the big yard. Several leafy trees provided a pleasant shade—not that it ever got that hot on the Northern California coast, and now that it was September, the weather was already showing hints of fall.
Daniel climbed from his SUV and studied his new home with a peculiar expression.
“This is it,” Mandy said, getting out of her car. “Isn’t it great? Just perfect for the days when people had huge families filling up all corners of the house, with the kids arguing about who gets the tower bedrooms. The town couldn’t figure out what to do with it until they decided it should be part of the city manager’s employment package.”
“It’s very nice.”
She rolled her eyes. “All you have to say is ‘nice’? This is the best house in town,” she informed him. “Old Man Bertram was the richest person around, after Fannie, that is. So when his grandson said he’d rather eat worms than live in Willow’s Eve, Oscar Bertram willed it to the community.”
“I didn’t mean anything negative,” Daniel said. “It’s magnificent and I’m sure I’ll enjoy living in it.”
Mandy cocked her head and studied him. He hadn’t said anything negative, just sort of neutral, and neutral wasn’t going to cut it in Willow’s Eve. “Sorry, I know you’re tired and maybe I should keep my mouth shut, but everyone is proud of the place and they’ll expect more than, ‘It’s nice.’”
“Yes, of course.”
“You don’t know much about small towns, do you?” she asked.
“I’ve never lived in one, but I’m sure I can adjust.” He smiled slightly.
“I never lived in one, either, until I came here, or at least not one this small,” Mandy admitted. “But I’ve learned a great deal. You can’t have a big-city attitude here. It won’t work.”
Brother, her vocal cords were having a wild-and-free day. For a moment, she felt the same as Bridget Jones in the movie and its sequel, riotously running off at the mouth and getting herself into one mess after another because of it.
Mandy led Daniel up the steps, wishing he’d been a pleasant middle-aged man. It wasn’t fair he’d turned out to be so attractive. Well, his face was attractive and his body mighty sexy. His personality? That might be another story. So far, he gave the impression of being uptight and humorless. But she’d barely met him and he might be a barrel of laughs once he had a decent night’s sleep. That would be nice—she didn’t do well with people who couldn’t laugh.
Luckily, she had a sense of humor to keep her going. Not that “lucky” was the way her professor father would have described it when she’d been eight years old and had shown up at a faculty reception dressed as Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt. It had seemed appropriate—after all, the older profs lapsed into Greek and Latin at the oddest times—and it was a heck of a lot better than the scratchy wool dress she had been told to wear.
Oh, well.
After her father had stopped yelling, she’d been sent to stay in her room all evening. Her mother had actually thought it was a punishment for her to remain in her bedroom instead of being downstairs in the living room with the professors and their stuffy spouses.
“Believe it or not,” Mandy said, dragging her mind back to the present, “there’s an attached garage. Back in the eighties, Mr. Bertram had a sunroom built that connects it. The garage door opener is in the kitchen.”
Daniel opened the front door and motioned for her to go ahead.
“Beautiful,” he declared after a minute staring about the entryway.
She nodded.
His admiration appeared genuine, which it ought to be. The entryway was an architectural masterpiece. Quickly, Mandy walked through the hallway and into the kitchen at the rear of the house.
“It’s been remodeled with all the latest conveniences,” she said. “Old Man Bertram left money to do it, though it’s too bad he didn’t put in the modern kitchen before he died. His housekeeper cooked on a fifty-year-old stove and says she still has nightmares.”
Mandy opened a drawer to reveal two garage door openers and various small gadgets to use around the house.
“There’s food in the freezer. Casseroles started arriving two days ago. We were going to have milk and fresh food in the fridge, only since we got mixed up about your arrival date, I’m afraid it’s still empty.”
“I’m sorry if I upset the plans.”
Mandy shrugged. “It’s not your fault. We just wanted to have it extra nice when you got here.”
“We?” Daniel asked. “How are you involved?”
“I was asked to be on the welcome committee. Anyway, the bed in the upstairs master bedroom is made, so that’s done. It’s on the right at the front of the house as you go up.”
“Thank you,” he said and began walking her to the front door.
“Oh, drat.” She mentally slapped her forehead. “I forgot your office keys. I’ll go get them now.”
“You’ll be at City Hall tomorrow, won’t you?”
“Yeah. Well, barring a blizzard or something,” she qualified.
“Right. Just unlock my office door if you have to step out. I have enough to do here. I can wait until tomorrow for the keys.”
“Sure. Say, you’d better turn up the hot water heater in the garage. It’ll just be lukewarm, otherwise.”
“Thanks.”
He turned and disappeared into the house, much to Mandy’s relief. There was something overpowering about Daniel Whittier, making her glad to escape.
* * *
BLEARY-EYED, DANIEL looked out the window at his Jeep Cherokee. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to park it in the garage and catch a nap. Not only had he gotten no sleep the night before, he’d been short on it for the past month. He was thirty-five now, not eighteen, and it was catching up to him.
Daniel walked through the pleasant sunroom off the kitchen and sure enough, the opposite door opened into a spacious garage. He parked his Jeep in the garage, closed the automatic door and then went up to find the master bedroom Mandy Colson had mentioned. He sank onto the bed, thinking about her. Lord, the woman had made his exhausted brain spin with her verbal detours and runaway mouth.
But she had an engaging smile that probably turned her boyfriends into melted butter and delighted the senior citizens she worked with.
His head hit the pillow. More misgivings about his move to Willow’s Eve were attacking. He’d envisioned a tidy ranch home, not a Victorian monster—this place was so huge they’d rattle around like dried peas in a pod. Worse, Samantha might find it overwhelming, or even frightening. Somehow he’d have to find a way to make her feel safe and secure, despite all the changes in her life.
Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep. Perhaps everything would seem more promising once he wasn’t so tired.
* * *
FOUR HOURS LATER, Daniel woke with a start, and it took a moment to orient himself.
He’d been grateful when he was offered the job in Willow’s Eve. The timing was perfect and would provide employment while he considered the future. Most of all, it had gotten him cleanly and quickly away from Southern California. Moving was probably best, even if Celia and the mayor hadn’t started dating. Celia was never going to develop maternal feelings, and his daughter would find it increasingly painful as she recognized that her mommy was more interested in Prada shoes than her own child—if she didn’t realize it already. It would be better for Samantha not to be constantly reminded of that hurtful truth. It was hard to feel unwanted, and even worse at only five years old.
He unpacked the Jeep and stacked everything in the kitchen before exploring the various rooms. The Victorian contained a significant amount of furniture, though some of the pieces were so old-fashioned they were practically antiques. Hell, most of them were antiques. It was handy that the house came furnished since his ex-wife had taken almost everything when she left. Daniel hadn’t cared as long as she didn’t use Samantha as a bargaining chip.
The Victorian had both a formal living room and a flowery parlor connected by French doors; Daniel stood between them, trying to picture his recently purchased dark gray-green leather couches in place of the elegant settees and needlepoint-upholstered chairs. The modern couches wouldn’t match the historic architecture, but they’d be far more comfortable. He and Joyce could discuss it before making a final decision.
Joyce.
Daniel chuckled to himself, wondering what the locals would think about his former mother-in-law living with him. It was unusual, but it was best for Samantha. The two of them were currently living in his town house. Joyce was a terrific lady, and having her in Willow’s Eve meant that Samantha wouldn’t need to go into child care. They were following him in a couple of weeks, depending upon how quickly he got things settled. Grabbing his smartphone, he dialed Joyce’s cell number. He’d called earlier to report his safe arrival in Willow’s Eve, but there had been little else to recount. Now he could tell Joyce and Samantha about the house.
“Hello, Daniel,” Joyce answered. He heard the smile in her voice. “Have you seen the house?”
“Yes. It’s a very large Victorian, in excellent shape. I’ve gotten some sleep and I’m putting everything away.”
“Is any furniture needed?”
“Not exactly.” He glanced around the room. “The existing stuff is old, though in good condition. But most of it doesn’t look comfortable.”
“Can some be removed?”
“The city council offered to store whatever isn’t needed.” He thought of Mandy. “The welcome committee made up a bed and put in basics like towels and hand soap. Not to mention stocking the freezer with home-cooked casseroles and other food.”
“Goodness. I didn’t think people still did that.”
“Me, either. It must be a small-town custom.”
“But it makes it easier for you right now. When the movers eventually deliver all our stuff, just leave the boxes until we get there. That way, you can focus on getting settled at work.”
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll think about it, but I’d also like to have the house look more familiar for Samantha, with her own things around. Naturally, I’ll let you decide about your own boxes.”
All of Joyce’s belongings had been marked with her name, and he wanted to respect her privacy. After the movers picked up everything from his town house, Joyce and Samantha would stay at her apartment, since it was furnished.
“I’m not worried about that. But...uh...” Her voice dropped. “I just found out that Celia and Dirk Bowlin are getting married in a few weeks.”
He rubbed his jaw, not surprised. The six-month anniversary of his and Celia’s divorce had passed, and some people saw that as the minimum benchmark for getting remarried. Since Bowlin was a politician, conscious of his image, he’d follow any conventions he thought might influence voters.
“Don’t worry about it, Joyce.”
“It’s going to be a small affair, but they’ve asked Samantha to be the flower girl.”
Daniel didn’t ask if it would be a white wedding, though he was quite certain there’d be photographers—Celia loved pictures of herself, and the mayor would want potential publicity shots. Then he suddenly realized one of the reasons Joyce was concerned.
“Flower girl? Does that mean you’ll need to stay until after the wedding?”
“Celia is having a dress made and wants studio photographs done, that sort of thing, so I think staying is best. But it wouldn’t be much longer than we originally planned.”
“I see.” Yet Daniel’s gut tightened. While it was highly unlikely his ex-wife would try to reopen the custody issue, he couldn’t suppress moments of suspicion about her motives.
In the background, he heard his daughter’s voice pleading, “Can I talk to Daddy, please?”
“Sure, honey,” Joyce said.
