Small-Town Hearts

Megan shot her a withering look, glanced through the front window and decided the hop, skip and jump in her chest was a leftover sugar high from not sticking to diet soda. She dusted her hands on her apron, tucked the look of surprise away, headed for the counter and faced the door as their early visitor reappeared. He met her gaze and grinned.

Knowing how his easy demeanor had affected her defenses earlier, she should have sent Hannah to the counter. But she didn’t, which meant she was either healing or a glutton for punishment.

Hannah moved forward, glancing at her watch. “Miss Russo, might I by your leave long enough to deliver today’s cookies to the mercantile and café just shy of the village green?”

Megan rolled her eyes, met Hannah’s gaze and nodded at the obvious ploy. “As always, I am grateful for your help, Miss Moore.”

“As am I for the gainful employment, Miss Russo.”

The man swept them an appreciative look. “Obviously whatever’s in the water down here is contagious. If I stay for a few weeks, will I begin to talk like that, too?”

Megan regarded him with care, a hint of amusement lifting her voice, much as it had an hour earlier. “If one were to linger and reside amongst the genteel of yesteryear, one would surely find their faith, warmth and culture most contagious, kind sir. Do you plan to take lodgings in this vicinity?”

“If that’s your cagey way of asking if I plan to be in town awhile, the answer is yes. I have business here.”

Hannah pushed through the front door with a wave. “I shall leave you to your verbal sparring while I deliver these forthwith.”

Megan watched Hannah go with mixed feelings. Volleying words with this guy was easy with others around. Somehow it felt less natural on her own. She busied herself righting a rack of flavored candy sticks that didn’t need straightening, their old-world appeal and low cost an invitation to purchase in bulk.

The man reached into his pocket and withdrew cold, hard cash, a welcome sight in a retail establishment. He eyed the credit card machine on the counter with a look of disbelief, then turned to her. “You said you couldn’t take credit cards.”

“And such as this is true, kind sir, two blocks from my place of business, in the middle of the street at break of day.”

He frowned and moved closer to the counter, giving Megan a clear view of those gray eyes, light in the middle, their color deepening as the iris widened. His straight, dark hair stopped a hint longer than military length, and the square set of his jaw marked him as a man of decision. But in Megan’s recent experience, men of decision quickly pivoted into indecision where matters of forever were concerned, so she wasn’t about to believe anyone’s chin, no matter how delightfully rugged it appeared.

He angled his head while waiting for her to conclude her perusal, as if accustomed to women sizing him up.

Totally understandable, considering his appearance.

She bit down a sigh, put a serene face in place and inclined her head. “But as you bear witness, kind sir, I have a machine of that nature here.”

“Oh, I see all right.” He let his gaze rest upon her for long seconds, his look inviting challenge. “I think I’m reading you loud and clear, Miss…?”

“Megan.” She gave a slight curtsy, very much in character. “Megan Russo, in actuality, the proprietor of this establishment and sister to Benjamin, the fine young man who made your acquaintance this morning.”

His smile deepened. Broadened. He held out a hand. “And I’m Daniel Graham, but my friends call me Danny.”

“Whereas I am scarce an acquaintance of yours, I shall be delighted to call you Mr. Graham.” She sent him a quick, smiling look over her shoulder as she moved along the counter, hoping he’d follow.

He did.

She bit back a grin, wishing this weren’t fun, wishing he weren’t absolutely adorable, wishing she hadn’t been burned twice already and fairly certain that public humiliation was her permanent Facebook status, since that seemed to be how her life rolled these days. Focus, Meg. Ignore the cleft in his chin, the crinkled eyes and that light of awareness. Remember, you don’t know him, and probably wouldn’t like him if you did.

She paused once she had the counter between them and offered him an expectant look. “How might I be of help to you this day, good man?”

It had to be wrong to think anyone was this cute, this over-the-top, heart-stoppingly magnetic. Right?

Danny tried to prevent his reaction, to no avail. She captivated him, plain and simple. The look, the quirky nature, the spunk, the knowing smile. He hadn’t reacted to a woman like this in, well…

Ever.

He’d had a variety of relationships over the years, and knew way too many Saks Fifth Avenue-friendly types from his years in Philly and New York, coupled with his regular excursions to Grandma Mary’s sprawling Northeast venues.

Nothing prepared him for the total impact of this quaintly clad young woman whose eyes held challenge and maybe, just maybe, a hint of cynicism, enough to make him wonder why and how it got there in a locale saturated with small-town goodness.

He tamped the feelings down, realizing he was simply experiencing a normal, healthy reaction to a new situation because no one in big cities wore quaint, full-skirted gowns made of the sweet calicos his grandmother employed in her quilt making. And the quiet swish of the dress as Megan moved…

Just made him wish she’d move more.

He frowned inward and outward, chasing his errant thoughts away. “I’ve come to buy the candy bars I wanted to purchase earlier.”

She nodded, slid open the door of an immaculate glass display case and withdrew a wicker basket of wrapped bars. She set the basket on the counter. Danny glanced around, noting the layout, and turned back, nodding. “You’ve picked a good location for the chocolate with summer here. This side of your display is shadowed enough to keep the temperature from fluctuating.”

One sculpted brow arched in quiet accord. “Chocolate is a delicacy, indeed. If one does not take care to manage it with an eye toward temperature control, one can ruin a batch forthwith. And exposure to the sun will gray it, drawing the composition oils to the surface. Most unappealing.”

He smiled as he withdrew eight bars. “I don’t find a thing in this store unappealing, Miss Russo.”

She dipped him another curtsy of acknowledgment, having no idea what her antics were doing to his heart. Or maybe she did. He withdrew another four bars just because he needed to do something that didn’t include staring at her.

“Danny!”

He turned, saved by the excited lilt of Ben’s voice. Ben charged forth, open and friendly, not a hint of reticence about him. Danny grinned, acknowledging the warmth, the innocence, the inborn effusive nature. He held out a hand. “I told you I’d come back, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Ben turned a scolding look to his sister. “See, Meggie? I told you not to be so grumpy. I told you he’d come back. Didn’t I? Huh?”

She didn’t miss a beat, just turned her head, gave the young man a quick, friendly nod and smiled. “You did, Ben. I knew I should have heeded your advice.”

“Yes.” Ben nodded, his expression firm. “I know a lot of things, and people should listen to me more.”

Megan acknowledged that with a calm look of assent. “I would be well-advised to do so. And Ben, I see other customers approaching. Would you be so kind as to take Mr. Graham’s money for his purchases?”

“I get to handle money? Yes, I’d be very glad to do it, Meggie!”

She bestowed a gentle smile of understanding on her brother, sent Danny a “gotcha” look that he didn’t think existed in colonial times and moved off to take care of the new customer, the quiet whisper of her dress marking her exit.

“H-how many candy bars do you want, D-Danny?”

He laid the bars on the counter. “All of these.”

Ben shot him a look of pure, unmitigated excitement, an expression that made Danny miss Uncle Jerry even more. So sweet. How he wished he’d taken more time to spend with Jerry those last years. How foolish he’d been to assume anything lasted forever.

“Twelve!”

He nodded and handed over two twenties, determined to pay in cash despite the handy machine atop the uncluttered glass counter.

He’d noticed right off that everything in the shop glowed with cleanliness. She’d gone with a white kitchen setting that embraced the store’s name, the wainscoted walls, window trim, cupboards and drawers all done in a white satin finish, the old knobs a throwback to earlier times. A few small white tables graced the end of the room while the candy faced the shaded northeast side, where aged, sprawling maple trees offered a cooling, shadowed presence. The west side of the store held an ice cream parlor setup, not too big, just enough to help augment summer sales.

Smart.

Danny liked and appreciated retail intelligence. Covering the bottom line was intrinsic to business, and in her own way, Megan Russo was doing just that, filling needs to fit the season and her cash flow. And looking really good, to boot.

She picked that moment to glance their way, her look noting Ben making change, and then Danny.

Her calm gaze did a little stutter-step, just enough to make him think she felt the connection. Her quick reversion to a more reserved countenance said she had every intention of fighting it, just like him.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief, then laughed at himself. He was only here a short while, just long enough to set up a site that proclaimed Grandma Mary’s cared about its roots, and while he wasn’t a history buff by any means, he was smart enough to recognize how far his family had come in four generations.

Amazing.

Megan flashed another look Ben’s way, and Danny’s inner hopes dimmed as realization set in.

He might put her out of business. Correction: would most likely put her out of business.

And that meant Ben would be out of a job, a chance to mingle with people, to feel good about himself. Danny knew how important those qualities were to the developmentally challenged.

He smiled his thanks to Ben and hoisted the bag of chocolate. “Thank you so much, young man.”

Ben grinned appreciation. “You’re welcome.”

Danny turned and headed for the door, wishing she’d call out. Wish him good day. Say goodbye. Invite him to come again.

She didn’t.

And he refused to turn, looking for her attention, knowing it was best to avoid her as much as possible considering the circumstances. The idea of causing her problems weighed on him, but his allegiance to his family business and family roots went deep. He’d scour the area for likely settings and try to place their new store far enough away from the Colonial Candy Kitchen to minimize the effect—but in the end, business was business.

Right now, he wasn’t all that certain he liked that idea.

Chapter Three

“Spill it, girlfriend. Who was the hunk you were shamelessly flirting with while I delivered cookies to the mercantile and the coffee shop?” Hannah tossed out the question once the store was empty at midday. “Some businessman.”

“And then some.” Hannah’s arched brows and grin showed proper appreciation. “What kind of business?”

Meg shook her head, wiped down crumbs from the cookie station and crossed to the freezer. The walk-in unit had been last year’s capital expenditure and was worth its weight in gold, which was almost what the unit cost. “No idea.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Not my business.”

Hannah stopped filling the half-pound boxes of pecan caramel turtles, a big seller regardless of the season. “Meg, he told you outright he was staying around awhile.”

“And?”

Hannah made a knocking motion against the counter with her left hand. “Um, hello? Opportunity calling? Sorry we missed you.”

Meg sent her a scowl that was only half pretend. “Opportunity has knocked before, remember? And I answered. Big mistake. Crashed and burned. Do the words ‘public spectacle’ come to mind?”

Hannah’s gaze softened. “You’re blowing things out of proportion, Meg.”

“Am I?” Meg turned, not sure that she was ready to face this conversation but not seeing an easy way out. “Are you forgetting that fiancé number one cheated on me and got another girl pregnant?”

“Which says a lot about his lack of character, not yours. He was totally unworthy of you and you know it.”

Meg had heard that before, and had almost come to believe it when in came Michael, fiancé number two. What on Earth had she been thinking? Was she that much in love with the idea of being in love? Or just totally naive?

“Let’s not forget Michael.”

“No, please, let’s forget Michael.” Hannah mock-shuddered, her expression underscoring her words. “Yes, he was funny and charismatic, but he had no work ethic and little pretense of faith, and didn’t Alyssa Michaels tell you he just got fired from his latest job because he failed to show up, time after time? Were you thinking you could fix that? Fix him? Not hardly.”

“You’re right, I know that, it’s just…” Megan grimaced and shrugged. Her friend Alyssa had made it a point to call her and fill her in on Michael’s newest gaffe, showcasing how undependable he was. Why hadn’t she noticed that sooner? “Obviously I’m either too needy or gullible. Maybe both. Very honestly, the thought of putting myself out there again scares me to death.”

“I know.”

Something in Hannah’s soft tone said she understood too much. A hint of sadness shadowed her eyes, her gaze, then disappeared as she moved forward to hug Meg. “But I also know that you befriended me when I moved here. I knew no one, I had no family in this area, and you reached out to me. Talked to me. You brought God’s peace into my life at a time when I needed it, Meg. I want to be able to do the same for you.”

Meg returned the embrace, grateful for the connection. Alyssa had been nudging her much the same way, but taking those first steps seemed harder than she’d have ever thought possible.

Hannah stepped back, eyed the clock and gave a low whistle. “And on that very emotional note, I’ve got to fly if I want to get the library open by three.”

Meg nodded and grabbed her hand. “Hannah. Thanks.”

Hannah shrugged. “Hey, we’re girls. Been there, done that. Girlfriends have to stick together. And sometimes give one another a well-meaning push.”

“Which means I get to do the same for you sometime?”

Hannah waved a hand in the air as she headed for the door. “Right now we’re talking about you, not me. See ya.”

Meg grinned at her retreating back. Noting that Ben was still out back with the late-afternoon renewed antics of the finch families, she began unpacking ice cream counter supplies when the phone rang, a welcome interruption from errant happily-ever-after thoughts.

“Colonial Candy Kitchen, Meg speaking. How can I help you?”

“Meg, this is Jacqui Crosby.”

Okay, make that was glad of the interruption. Meg was never too thrilled to chat with fiancé number one’s intrusive mother. “Jacqui, how are you?”

“Frazzled and frantic, totally out of character for me, as you well know.”

Meg knew no such thing. Jacqui Crosby was a town gossip, one of those people who could be counted on to spread information with hawklike speed, always watching and sharpening her tongue at others’ expense. Meg asked, “Well, good chocolate is always a cure for that. What can I get for you?”

“Oh, I don’t want chocolate,” Jacqui shot back, her tone hiking. “I’m doing a high-protein diet to stay in shape for summer. Of course, you don’t have to pay attention to that with your long dresses, do you, dear?”

One, two, three…

“What I’m calling about is your apartment. I’d like to rent it.”

Her apartment?

Meg frowned. The second floor of her house held two apartments: cute, clean and in good shape after years of plaster dust, plumbing and paint. She lived in one and rented the other. Her most recent tenants had moved out in mid-May after graduating from Meg’s alma mater, Alfred University. But why would Jacqui Crosby want her apartment, and how on Earth could Meg tell her no?

“Brad and Denise are having a house built outside of Hornell,” Jacqui continued. “Their old place is too small with the new baby on the way and they need a place to stay for the summer. My kitchen’s being redone and you know what a mess remodeling is, so there’s no way I can have Brad Junior running around underfoot for eight weeks. How much is the rent?”

Brad and Denise, staying next door all summer, with the little boy they conceived while she wore Brad’s ring?

“Jacqui, I’m sorry, it’s not available. And it’s a small unit,” Meg added. “It wouldn’t suit them.”

“Oh, but it would,” the older woman insisted. “I expect they’d do nothing more than sleep there, Megan, and spend the days over here while Brad worked.”

Megan had heard enough of the local gossip to know Denise wasn’t a big fan of Jacqui’s interfering nature. There was no chance the young mother would spend day after day at the Crosbys while Brad worked. No, she’d be here, hanging out, a visible reminder of what kind of girl actually got the guy in the end. And it wasn’t the petticoat-wearing business woman with a candy store. Oh, no. It was the blond fashion doll sporting tight jeans, tight shirts and no job.

Nope. Not going to happen. “I’m sorry, Jacqui, it’s not possible and I’ve got to go. I’ve got chocolate on.”

“But—”

But nothing. Meg recradled the phone, realized she’d been just short of rude and vowed to scan the caller ID more carefully in the future. Regardless, no way, no how was she about to rent her next-door apartment to Brad and Denise, but Brad’s mother kept her fingers on the town pulse, and Meg’s ad in the weekly paper was hitting the stands today. She could only pray for a quick lease before Jacqui realized she’d been played, because that possible scenario wouldn’t bode well for anyone.

Danny scanned the day-old classified list, frowned and headed back to his rental car. He climbed in, started the engine, studied the map and his directions from Google, missing the GPS on his Beemer but not willing to have his car mark him as a man with money.

Making a K-turn, he headed south and west to view this last apartment. With any luck, he might be able to move in tomorrow. Get established. That would be perfect.

His phone jangled the opening notes to “My Boy Lollipop,” his sister’s signature ringtone, an inside joke among the Romesser clan. They’d agreed to use candy songs to identify themselves, including Grandma Mary, making the quirk totally childish but fun. Danny hit the speakerphone button, in no mood for a traffic ticket for not being hands free. “Hey, sis. What’s up?”

“Can we change places?”

He bit back the phrase in a heartbeat, wanting to help her. But he couldn’t, and that cut into his protective instincts. “What’s going on?”

“Trouble in Philly at the University City location.”

Ouch. That particular Philly store had been problematic lately; a string of small thefts and possible gang influence had targeted their location adjacent to the University of Pennsylvania campus. “Do we need additional security?”

“Done. I amped up the internal monitoring and didn’t tell the staff, but I feel like a spy, watching them like this.”

“All it takes is one bad apple, Mary Clare. One dishonest person can totally ruin your bottom line and set a store up for failure. You know that.”

“You’re right, of course, it’s just a weird feeling. The security agency will be doing the hands-on video scan so I feel slightly less intrusive.”

Danny understood the dilemma. Security was an unfortunate necessity, more so in certain locales, and Mary Clare hadn’t overseen those venues as yet. Time and circumstance had gotten in the way. He broached that subject cautiously. “Are you doing okay, Mare?”

“Mostly.”

Danny cringed, wanting to help, knowing there was nothing he could do.

“I’m keeping busy. Working here actually helps, it keeps me away from places that Christian and I used to go to. A few degrees of separation isn’t a bad thing right now.”

“And you know you can call me anytime, right?” Danny was stating the obvious since she’d just called, but her vulnerability called to the guardian in him. Plus Philly had been dealing with an upswing in violent crimes lately, not exactly the setting he’d normally choose for his younger sister. “About anything.”

“I know.” She breathed a tiny sigh and hesitated for long ticks of the clock before adding, “This is good for me.”

Danny heard the silent exception. “But?”

“It’s hard.”

“I know.” They’d buried her fiancé less than a year before, an army officer killed in a roadside bombing in Afghanistan. “I miss him, too.”

“He’d get a kick out of you being tucked in the foothills of Appalachia. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. But no more so than my friends who make it a point to text me about their weekend plans in the big city.”

“Harsh.”

Danny laughed. “It’s pretty here, though.” The word pretty conjured up mental images of Megan Russo. Danny shut them out. “And if you’re doing okay, and it sounds like you are, I’ve got to hang up because I’m about to look at an apartment that sounds ideal.”

“Wonderful. Thanks for being my sounding board. Again.”

He smiled, wanting her to succeed, knowing he’d be there at a moment’s notice to help if she floundered, because that was what brothers did. “Anytime, sis.”

Chapter Four

Twenty minutes later Danny trudged back to his car, totally frustrated, fighting a headache and a suspicion he might be infested. The state of that garage apartment left a lot to be desired, and he was pretty sure he’d spied a colony of silver-fish beneath the sink, while the faint but lingering smell of a dead mouse wafted from a west-facing wall.

At this moment the motel he’d booked for the night was looking better and better.

He stopped to gas up and withdrew a fresh edition of the small weekly paper from a rack inside the convenience store, pleasantly surprised when the cashier waved off the two-quarter price. “We just give them away, sir. You have a nice day, now.”

The young man’s easy nature brightened Danny’s smile. And the giveaway policy was good business for advertisers. He pulled into a parking space, opened the half size newspaper, noted a full-page ad advertising an upcoming balloon rally and mentally logged in the date.

His grandfather had been a hot air balloon pilot, and he’d taught Danny the skills early on. If all went well and time allowed, Danny had every intention of having his balloon trucked down to Allegany County. Taking part in the local ballooning event would be his reward for a job well done.

He flipped back a few pages and scanned the classifieds for new listings. Most were long-term apartments or homes, but his gaze trained on one advertisement. “Available now, immaculate one-bedroom, full bath, galley kitchen, furnished, priced right, short-or long-term lease considered.”

He withdrew his phone, got a clear tone and dialed the number, hopeful.

“Hello.”

“Good evening, my name is Daniel Graham and I’m calling about your ad in the paper. The one for the immaculate one-bedroom apartment. Is it still available? And is it really, truly immaculate? Because I’d be okay with that.”

Silence. Absolute, utter silence.

Danny tried again. “Hello?” He pulled the phone from his ear, saw the bars that said he was still connected and frowned. “Hello? Are you there?”

A sigh echoed through the phone. “I’m here. I…umm…”

“I can get references if you like,” Danny offered, trying to sweeten the deal. “I’m in town on business this summer and need a place to stay, so I’m looking at short-term. Eight to twelve weeks, most likely. Would that be all right?”