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“Carmen, how are you?” He gave her grandmother a long-lost-friend greeting, and Gram had the nerve to pop up from her chair and hug him.
“Good! I love this place, Seth, it is perfetto for our shop, for the work Gianna and I do. Even the snow I do not mind. Its beauty is of nature and God, and everything is so close to walk to. And the view.” She clapped a theatrical hand to her heart, and Gianna couldn’t help but smile. Her grandmother was never afraid to let emotion rule the day. “I could look upon this beautiful lake forever.”
Gianna had learned the hard way to shield her emotions. How many family and friends had advised her to grab hold of her life and move on? To go back to New York City and immerse herself in the hectic lifestyle she’d embraced for years before she’d met Michael and fallen in love?
She’d kept hold of her life. What she’d lost was her husband, gunned down on his day off. The irony of that bit deep. A New York State trooper on a convenience store run for his pregnant wife, stumbling onto a robbery in progress.
Gone, just like that, and then the miscarriage a few weeks later.
Emptiness had consumed her. Some said for too long, but what did they know? Had they suffered her loss?
No. So they could—
“Do you have a sketch?”
She stuffed the backward trail of thoughts aside and picked up a sheet of paper from the counter. “Right here.”
“Thanks.” Seth didn’t say any more. He simply took the sketch, crossed to the east-facing wall, then measured repeatedly between the red cedar beams.
“I was thinking four-foot sections here, here and here.” Gianna pointed out the separated wall areas for him. “If we leave every third or fourth area free, I can strategically place mannequins to display complete outfits.”
“Those headless things give me the willies,” he muttered as he penciled numbers. “Although the ones with heads aren’t much better.”
“Dress forms,” Gianna told him.
He paused and frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“Like that.” She pointed out the dress form in her sewing corner. “I’m working on a circa-1940s gown for a customer, and the form is adjustable. When I’m sewing, I use the form to see if I’m nipping and tucking in all the right spots as I create the dress. Out here—” she waved a hand to the stack of boxes and rolling racks clogging the middle of the room “—I can display things in their natural size so that customers have the advantage. What looks great on a size six doesn’t always work for a size sixteen.”
“You’re making this?” Seth stepped closer to the form. He touched the soft, tucked fabric of the sleeve and turned her way. “I thought it was some old-fashioned gown you bought. This is lovely.”
The way he said it, as if he understood the tiny differences between good-and fine-quality garments, made her feel better inside. “Thank you.”
“This isn’t sewing,” he went on as he admired two other outfits on the rack behind Gianna’s sewing corner.
She arched a brow and looked up, waiting for him to finish.
Time stopped. So did her heart, and if the look on his face was any indication, his reaction mimicked hers, so she took a deep breath and a full step back. “It’s not?”
“It’s art. Like a fine painting or a book you can’t put down.”
He needed to stop talking. He needed to stop being so nice, so kind, so capable, so big, strong and handsome. If you weren’t working in the garment district or with a costume designer on Broadway, sewing skills were relegated to the occasional alterations shop these days. Her grandmother’s talent and skill was becoming a lost art, just like Seth said. But not on Gianna’s watch. She may have given up the streets of the Big Apple, but she wouldn’t abandon the God-given artistry of their combined efforts. Their location on the quaint and upscale lakeshore would provide a tremendous tourist trade, while special orders on the internet helped balance the books.
She retreated one more step, but it wasn’t far enough, because the spiced-wood scent of him called to her. She’d answered that call once, to a man who wore a uniform, a man with a badge. She’d loved him, heart and soul.
She’d lost him the same way.
* * *
He’d work when Gianna was out of the shop, Seth decided as he left his father’s hardware store later that afternoon. Charlie Campbell had called in an order to an Illinois supplier. Seth knew what he wanted for the dress bars, stressed metal, old looking, but strong. Racks of clothing were heavy, and even with sturdy wall construction, he wanted to be sure he anchored the racks into solid support beams. The rustic tone he selected complemented the antiquated building, the classic decor he’d labored over when Jasmine had divorced him. Working in the cold, long days of that first winter had been his personal therapy, just him, some tools and a propane heater for long, silent days.
He’d been stupid and foolish, he saw that now. All in the name of love, regardless of his mother’s misgivings, and Jenny Campbell never discouraged casually. Despite that, he wouldn’t regret the time he’d had with Tori. Like that old Garth Brooks tune, if he hadn’t opened himself up for the pain, he might have never gotten the opportunity to be Tori’s dad, to be a father. His heart ached, wondering where she was. What she was doing. And because Jasmine had never allowed him to adopt the girl, he had no legal right to know.
That reality bit hard.
He contemplated grabbing takeout from the diner, but a glance at his watch refuted that thought. He and trooper Zach Harrison were assigned to oversee security and traffic flow for the yearlong bicentennial celebration the town had kicked off in late October. Using both departments, they would coordinate security efforts to cover back-to-back lakeshore activities, and tonight’s planning meeting was important. He put his stomach on hold, grabbed two coffees at the café and headed to the town hall. Zach’s SUV was parked to the right of the building. Seth walked in, saw Zach, strode forward and handed him a fresh cup of coffee, then turned when he heard a familiar laugh.
Gianna and Carmen sat side by side in the third row, center aisle. The wind-driven snow hadn’t kept attendance down tonight. Even with the crowded conditions, the two newcomers stood out like tropical birds in a sparrow’s tree. Nothing about the Italian women said low-key, and speculative brows and whispers crossed the full room. The two seamstresses seemed oblivious, heads bent over a legal-size pad of paper on Gianna’s lap, her pencil moving in swift, bold strokes.
“Zach, Seth, you’re both here, good.” Tess Okrepcki made a note on the pad in front of her before she faced the room full of volunteers and vendors. “And because Zach is on duty tonight, I suggest that we move the security portion of our meeting to the first item on the agenda so he can get back to work. Any objections?” Nods of assent said the people agreed. “Then a show of hands, all in favor?”
Hands shot up all over the room and Seth’s stomach did a happy dance of celebration. If he and Zach could get out of the meeting quickly, he’d find food that much sooner. And a nice big burger might take his mind off the pretty woman seated in the middle of the room. For ten minutes anyway. Until he saw her lights blink on across the street from his home in the middle of the night. Either they were both nocturnal, or she didn’t sleep any better at night than he did. And that made him wonder why she’d have trouble sleeping.
He turned as Tess rambled something about historically correct attire, determined not to think about Gianna Costanza. His resolve lasted about six seconds.
“And I’m thrilled to announce we have two new expert seamstresses in town. Carmen Bianchi and Gianna Costanza have offered their services to help make costumes for our bicentennial volunteers. Carmen is a long-established seamstress from Hamilton County in the Adirondack region of New York State, and her granddaughter Gianna worked on Broadway as a costume maker for six years before moving back to her hometown in the mountains. Gianna and Carmen, would you stand up so everyone can see you?”
See them?
The two well-dressed women had been the topic of room-wide speculation for the past ten minutes, but Tess pretended oblivion.
Carmen and Gianna stood, smiled and waved to the crowd, then sat back down amid a smattering of applause.
“Law enforcement, can you give us your report?”
Seth stepped forward as Gianna turned. Her eyes went wide, seeing him. Her mouth opened slightly, as if his presence affected her. One hand clenched the other. The gesture said he made her nervous.
Welcome to the club. He smiled at Carmen, gave Gianna a polite nod, then delivered his report in quick, crisp terms.
“Wonderful!” Tess scanned the committee members before she moved on. “Questions, anyone?”
“Will the mounted patrol be available for any of our summer activities?” one woman wondered. “They always add a special element to our gatherings.”
“They’re scheduled to help with the Fourth of July festival and the Labor Day waterside celebration,” Seth explained. “But they’re patrolling the park and forest preserve the rest of the summer, and we have to be careful not to short our fellow officers during their busiest time of the year.”
“We’re grateful to have them here in Kirkwood for those two events,” declared Tess. “Zach, Seth, thank you so much for your attention to detail, and please extend our thanks to your departments. We’ve got approval from your captains to allow you out-of-uniform status for several bicentennial functions, so if you could both make appointments with either Carmen or Gianna, they’ve agreed to create historically correct uniforms for you.”
“Say what?” Seth stared at Tess, then switched his gaze. Gianna looked just as surprised as he did.
Carmen didn’t look surprised at all. She stood, waved to Tess and didn’t seem to care about meeting protocol, another reason to love the aged woman. “I’ll set up a time with our officers so they can be on their way. You go right ahead with the meeting,” she advised Tess, as if the committee chair needed permission. “Gianna can offer advice while I’m gone.”
She stepped into the hallway, whipped out a smartphone and flipped to her calendar app with greater speed than Seth had ever been able to muster, then arched a look to Zach. “Would you prefer to come to the shop together?”
“Less scary that way,” Zach muttered. “Do we really have to do this, ma’am?”
“Carmen,” she told him firmly. “And yes, I guess you do. If the captains say do it, the officer does it. At least that’s how my late husband saw it, and he had the promotions to prove he knew how to handle the work and politics of policing a community.”
“Can’t argue that,” Zach replied. “Together’s fine. Then we can complain in unison.”
“I’ll have pizzelles and Italian cookies for you,” Carmen promised. “If the mouth is full, complaints become a nonissue.”
Zach laughed. “I like how you think. Okay, how’s this Saturday? Does that work for you, Seth?”
“I’ll be there working on installing the rack hardware, so yes. But I thought you were planning to be gone on Saturday?” He met Carmen’s gaze straight on. “I distinctly remember you saying that you and your granddaughter were attending an all-day function in Clearwater.”
“When the opportunity to help the town came up, we decided this was more important,” Carmen replied. “Helping with the bicentennial costuming gives us the chance to show off our versatility without spending advertising dollars, and you know how pricey that is for start-up businesses.”
Her reply made perfect sense, but Seth wasn’t a wet-behind-the-ears beginner on the force. He saw the old woman’s ruse and couldn’t fault how she wrapped her matchmaking in a shroud of community outreach. Clever and admirable. And he’d make sure to never underestimate her in the future, which was good since they were neighbors.
“Ten o’clock okay?”
“Fine with me.” Carmen tapped a number into the calendar as the next person filed out of the room to set up a fitting time. “Officers, we’ll see you Saturday morning.” She turned and aimed her bright-eyed smile at the next victim as Zach and Seth left the building.
“Did we just get railroaded into wearing some kind of Dudley Do-Right costume to become laughingstocks of the entire community and thousands of tourists?”
“Yes.” Seth sighed, stared out at the snow, then shoved open the door. “Worse, my Saturday just morphed from a peaceful long day of me, hardware and pre–Super Bowl radio sports chatter to me, them and Italian opera.”
“No way.” Zach’s look of horror matched Seth’s spoken angst. “Take your iPod.”
“I don’t have an iPod.”
“Borrow one,” Zach advised as he moved to his car. “I get to leave and go home, where our current topic of conversation will be what color to use on the nursery.”
“Piper’s expecting?” Seth clapped the other man on the back. “That’s wonderful news.”
“It’s early, and we’re not saying much yet, but yes, come summer we should have a little Harrison to add to the bicentennial fun.”
“Congratulations.” Seth meant the word sincerely. “There’s nothing like being a dad.”
Zach met his gaze. Seth read sympathy mixed with Zach’s joy. “Thanks, Seth.”
Seth climbed into his car.
He’d been starving when he showed up at the meeting. He wasn’t a bit hungry now. He was thrilled for Zach and Piper. Their fall wedding had been a fun, hometown event. And Seth’s younger brother, Luke, was engaged to Piper’s sister, Rainey. Their wedding would join two families who’d met life’s challenges and clung to faith and hope.
Right now all he could think of was his empty house. No school books strewn here and there. No inane, overacted tween shows on cable. And no one to urge to eat meat loaf...or try broccoli...or teach how to tie flies for stream fishing, or take out in Dad’s boat, watching for nesting water birds. There was just him and eight yawning rooms, a house that felt so empty he could cry. But big, strong men didn’t cry, so he parked the car, grabbed a shovel and spent two hours cleaning out his driveway and then Gianna’s. By the time he completed the job he was tired enough to fall into bed and sleep.
And that was a scenario he’d been practicing for over two years. Work himself so hard that he couldn’t help but sleep, and while he was awake, pray that God watched over the girl he loved as a daughter. Wherever she might be.
* * *
“Police officer uniforms?” Gianna scolded as she grabbed a snowbrush from the trunk after the lengthy meeting. Two hours in lake-effect snowfall had left the car buried. “Really, Gram?”
“I can’t think of a better way to show off tailoring skills than on those two,” Carmen quipped back as she reached for the second brush. “Everyone will notice, guaranteed. Those men are seriously good-looking.”
The thought of Seth in an old-style sheriff’s uniform wasn’t unappealing.
The idea of working with him was, but only because she could deny the attraction when he wasn’t around. In person?
She sighed, swept the snow aside with more vigor than necessary and took out her aggravation on innocent frozen precipitation. By the time she climbed into the driver’s seat, the car had begun to warm. She sent a sidelong look to her grandmother, who waved off her concerns with practiced nonchalance. “We’re here to do a job. A new start. Doing what we do best and having people’s gratitude and awareness is huge, Gianna. You know that.”
“I get that part.” Gianna thrust the car into gear and moved forward carefully, eyeing the thickening snow. “But I wasn’t expecting police uniforms in the deal. Fitting uniforms is a pain in the neck.”
“I found patterns online. They won’t be any more trouble than the long, tucked skirts we’re doing for the ladies.”
Gianna disagreed silently. She’d have no problem working with the ladies. Nipping the waists, adding tucks for proper ease over the hips.
Working with Seth?
That was a problem in itself. Her fault, she knew, so she’d just have to deal with it. Right now she had other things to think about, though. Like how to get the car into the snow-clogged driveway so the overnight plows wouldn’t hit her small SUV and send it into the nearby lake. She turned onto Main Street, put on her signal, then smiled.
He’d cleared the driveway. From side to side and end to end, black asphalt with just a little clinging snow called to her. The crunch beneath the tires said he’d sprinkled salt, too.
Quick tears stung the backs of her eyes.
Mike had taken care of her like this. Always thinking ahead, thinking of others. That warmth and bravery had led to his death. If trouble loomed, he jumped in, wanting to help. Serving and protecting, all of his days.
Maybe Seth wasn’t like that. She hadn’t known him long enough to know. But they shared the caregiver’s urge, the guardian. Looking out for others.
Was she selfish to avoid a repeat of those qualities? To resent what was taken from her? Maybe.
But better selfish than heartbroken again.
As she stepped out onto the firm surface, she reached back to grab her purse and notebook.
Light streamed through Seth’s side window, one single beam from within. Outside, his porch lights glowed all night, a policeman’s first line of defense, she knew. Overnight lights made it tough if not impossible for anyone to creep up on a house. But somehow Seth’s lights didn’t look protective. They looked welcoming. Waiting. As if he turned them on to guide someone home, like that old George Strait song.
But that was silly female imaginings. She closed the car door and followed her grandmother inside, worried and excited about Saturday. And the fact that she was excited to work with Seth worried her even more.
Chapter Three
“I’m not sure where we are, Dad, I just wanted to call and say I love you.” A tiny sound that could have been a choked sob broke through Tori’s whispered phone message. “I miss you so much.”
Seth’s heart ground to a halt as he listened to her plaintive words again on Saturday morning.
Tori was reaching out to him. She’d done this before, but not in a while, and he’d hoped—no, he’d prayed—that the interim silence meant things were going better. The pain in her childlike voice said that wasn’t the case.
The phone call had no return number. She’d blocked it so he couldn’t call her back. That meant she’d be in big trouble if her mother knew she’d contacted him.
A harsh pain in his chest said his heart had started beating again. How could he help her? How could he reach her?
He’d exhausted legal means early on. Because of his nonparent status, he had no recourse. His fault. He should have insisted on the adoption first thing after they’d married. At least then he’d be her legal father. He’d have rights. As it was he had nothing, and when Jasmine had left, she’d taken the most precious thing she’d brought to their ill-fated marriage. Her child.
“Seth, good morning.” Reverend Smith stopped at the road’s edge, his half-grown pup straining at the leash. “Titus. Leave it.”
The dog paused, sighed then sat, obedient, but his expression said he wondered why they were stopping on the cold, wet street when there was a perfectly good rectory a block away.
“Titus is doing well.” Seth leaned down and rubbed the pup’s neck with gentle hands. “Zach’s sister took one of the pups for her boys, and he’s more rambunctious.”
