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“See you then.” Stella walked away and then turned back. “You did a great job today, Darren. Thank you.”
Warmth filled him, mixed with shame at spurning her concern this past year. “You’re welcome. Good to see you again, Stel.”
“And you, as well.” She winked and left with her small entourage of elderly friends.
Darren could count on her for good buzz on his class. Maybe this time around, his regional boss would see that he was ready to deal with anyone. Even the Bay Willows crowd.
When he climbed into the van, he blew out his breath. Not bad. His first wild edibles class was done, along with today’s shift. And he hadn’t run into any problems or his ex. All that stressing over nothing. He’d have to face her one of these days, but not today.
Starting the engine, he checked his rearview mirror, caught a glimpse of a pink-and-green-striped bag on one of the seats and groaned. His day wasn’t over yet. He’d have to return that purse to the owner.
He reached back and grabbed it. Hesitating only a moment, he looked inside. Rifling through a woman’s purse was not something he relished, but after digging around lipstick tubes and travel packs of tissues, he found a wallet. As he opened that, a driver’s license with a picture of Stella greeted him.
At least he knew where she lived. He’d been there many times, with and without Raleigh. He used to stop in to fix a thing or two around Stella’s cottage. Who took care of that now? Tony? He doubted that. Tony wasn’t exactly a fix-it kind of guy. He’d call a repair man with the excuse that he had more money than time.
Tony knew all about money. From the world of high finance and investments, his best friend had spoken Raleigh’s language far better than Darren ever had. The sting of their betrayal still lingered. It wasn’t easy to lose his bride and best man in one day—one horrible day that had changed everything.
He pulled into the small driveway of Stella’s cottage with the screened-in porch and looked around. No cars were parked nearby other than Stella’s little black Buick. He stepped onto the porch. Crisp white wicker furniture with brightly colored cushions had been casually arranged. A vase stuffed with tall, fake flowers stood sentinel on the glass-topped side table.
And this was only the porch.
He finally knocked on the door.
“Darren, what a nice surprise.” Stella wore a red-and-white-checkered apron, looking very much like anyone’s grandma, only a lot brighter. She applied more makeup than most. “Come in.”
He lifted her purse. “I’m just dropping this off. You left it in the van.”
“Oh, my. I didn’t even miss it. Don’t get old.” She opened the screen door wide and it squeaked. The thing needed a good dousing of lubricant on the hinges. “Come in for a bit, would you?”
He’d fix the door before he left. Giving Stella a nod he said, “You’re not old.”
“Thanks, but we both know I am.”
He followed Stella into the small summer cottage. She lived alone. Raleigh once said that her husband had died only a couple of years ago.
A lot had happened in those two years. Darren had lost out on his bid for the supervisor position, and then he’d met Stella’s granddaughter. It had been a whirlwind romance, one that Darren reeled from still. Memories sliced through him as he walked past the dining room into Stella’s kitchen. He could almost hear Raleigh’s laughter and the way she’d teased.
It hurt.
“Cookies? I made them this morning.”
Darren sat down with a sigh. “Sure.”
She patted his shoulder. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.” Broken hearts mended with time but never forgot.
“Have you talked to Raleigh?” Stella bustled about the kitchen, stacking cookies on a plate and then pouring him a tall glass of milk.
“Not much to say, is there?”
Stella gave him a long look. “I suppose not.”
The question he didn’t want to ask nagged like a loose tooth until he finally spit it out. “Is she happy?”
Stella nodded. “She appears to be. Tony’s always buying her stuff. His last gift was a diamond ring.”
Darren clenched his jaw. He hadn’t seen them in months. Nineteen months, three weeks and a few days, to be exact.
She stared him down with a fierce gleam in her eyes. “You’re a good man, Darren. Much too good for my granddaughter.”
That surprised him, and he grunted around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie. Stella’s granddaughter had stormed into his life and changed it. He’d forever be the spurned groom nearly left at the altar when his bride ran away with his best man after rehearsal. They’d taken off for the honeymoon and had the gall to come back and live under Darren’s nose in town. Was it any wonder that people in town looked at him with pity?
He drained his glass and slammed it down on the table. Fortunately, he didn’t break the thing, but the loud thwack startled Stella.
He stood. “I’ll fix that squeak in your screen door.”
Stella smiled up at him. “Do that and I’ll make you dinner. I was thinking chicken marsala with those morels we picked. Stay and eat with me.”
He looked into her eager face. A few more wrinkles creased around Stella’s blue eyes since the last time he’d seen her. For a woman in her early seventies, she was spry. Energetic and a good listener. She’d always been a good listener. Dinner might be a little earlier than he was used to, but food sounded good right now. What harm could there be in staying?
“Okay. I’ll stay, on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“What else needs fixing around here?”
Stella grinned, obviously pleased. “Well, there is a leaky faucet upstairs.”
“Now we’re talking.” Darren knew where the tools were kept and got to work rummaging for what he’d need. Really, he should have stopped in and checked on Stella sooner.
He could hear her humming while she scattered pots and pans in the kitchen. The phone rang. Stella still had a landline.
“Yup, now’s good.” Stella’s voice dropped to a whisper.
He headed up the stairs so he wouldn’t overhear her private conversation. Halfway up, it dawned on him that Stella might be talking to her granddaughter and his gut twisted. Surely, Stella had enough sense not to invite Raleigh over while he was here. He backed down a few steps and strained to listen, but Stella had already hung up the phone.
She was humming again.
Chapter Three (#ulink_13cc8a6d-89eb-5919-9524-efb25bb879d6)
“How was class? Was there a good turnout?” Bree’s mother sat on the couch, her broken ankle propped up on a pillow. She wore a soft cast-style boot and had instructions to keep weight off it as much as possible for the next week.
Bree slipped into a pair of loose loafers to match the khakis she’d changed into. “It was good. Including me, there were ten of us. Stella was there.”
“How is she?”
“Good. I’m heading over there for dinner.”
Her mother frowned. “We’ve hardly had a chance to talk since you came up. Everything okay?”
Bree hesitated. Really, she was making too much of telling her parents about Philip. About her leaving. “Everything’s good. Really good. In fact, I was offered that residency I applied for.”
“In Seattle?” Aha, her mother had been paying attention all those months ago. “I thought they chose someone else.”
“They did, but something came up and the guy had to decline. I gave notice to the symphony, cleaned out my apartment and shipped out what I’ll need. I’ll leave here in about a month.”
Her mother narrowed her gaze. “What’s Philip think about that?”
This was where it got sticky. “We decided to call it quits. It’s for the best, all things considered.”
“Oh, Bree. He’s got a wonderful future ahead of him. You’re twenty-nine years old. Isn’t it time you stopped studying and settled down?”
Bree had expected that reaction. She’d gone for her master’s degree and a couple of short-term fellowships overseas while working her way up to assistant principal cellist. She wasn’t ready to get stuck with kids and a husband who’d make demands on her time. She needed to find her real purpose before settling down. Why had she been gifted with the love of music if simply playing was not enough?
Her parents had introduced her to Philip, the son of her father’s golf buddy, years ago, with high hopes. Hopes that Bree had shared until she’d applied for the music residency. Philip had been against it from the start, vocalizing that she didn’t have a chance. He’d been livid when she went ahead with her application anyway.
She shrugged, sparing her mother the details. “It just didn’t work out between us.”
“He doesn’t want to wait. Two years is a long time, Bree. Maybe you should rethink this residency.”
Bree breathed deep. “I’ve always wanted to try my hand at composing, and this is a prime opportunity.”
Her mother didn’t understand her restlessness. She’d never understood her desire to be more. Instead of arguing the point, her mother shelved the discussion for later, when she’d have reinforcement from Bree’s father. “Well, it’s good to have you here for longer than a couple of weeks. You might even catch your sister. She’s finally taking some time off and will be up Memorial Day weekend.”
Bree bit her lip. Her sister had been the role model in the family. She was a dermatologist married to a doctor with two kids. It didn’t get more successful than that in her mother’s eyes. “That’s great.”
Her mother tipped her head. “Thank you for overseeing my class. How’d that officer do? He’s filling in, you know. The woman I met with was supposed to facilitate but went out early on maternity leave. And no wonder, considering she’s got to be in her forties. See, that could happen to you if you wait too long to have kids. It’s a risk, Bree.”
She didn’t bother addressing that issue. She had plenty of time. Even if she didn’t, she’d never been comfortable around small children and wasn’t sure she even wanted a family of her own. “So, you haven’t met him.”
“No. Someone called to tell me about the change a week ago. And then this happened.” Her mom lifted her ankle.
“He did a great job. He’s knowledgeable.” Bree didn’t mention that Darren was also attractive and single. Or that Ed had given him grief.
“Well, good. If it’s successful, we might offer this class every year.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” Would Darren teach it? If so, she’d be sorry to miss it.
Bree definitely thought this class more fun than most of the interest offerings available through the summer season at Bay Willows. Pottery, painting and bridge were only a few. Her mother, as president of the garden club, had organized the wild edibles course months ago.
“Well, I’ve got to run. Stella had just started making dinner when I called her. I left a bowl of cleaned morels in the fridge for you and Dad.”
“Your father will enjoy them.”
She’d split half her bundle with her parents; the other half was going with her. A convenient escape for tonight, but her mother was bound to tell her father the news, and then they’d both sit her down for more information.
Her father would want to know what kind of living she could expect over the next two years. Bree had cashed in her 401(k) to handle incidentals, plus she had a good savings. Room and board were covered in a dorm-like setting as there were other residents working in other areas, but that was pretty much it when it came to compensation.
She had a little over a month up north where troubles melted away in the deep blue waters of Lake Michigan. Only she’d be gone before the lake was warm enough for swimming.
Bree took a deep breath and then let it back out. “Is there anything you need before I go?”
Her mother stared over the rim of her reading glasses and lifted her needlepoint. “I’ve got this to keep me busy, and your father’s outside. I’ll be fine.”
Her father would be around all week before heading back home to his job in Detroit. He’d make the four and a half-hour trek north to the cottage every weekend, though. Bree had grown up that way. Seeing her father only on weekends during the summer months.
Bree headed out the door. From the front porch, she scanned the gorgeous view of Maple Bay and sighed. The dark blue waters of Lake Michigan slapped rhythmically against the shore while birds sang their hearts out. If only she could capture these sounds and turn them into chords and notes. The view always inspired a chorus in her head. Could sight somehow be translated into sound? A good composer used all the senses.
Could she be good?
She’d written oodles of movements with the hope of putting it all together. One day, she’d hear her own piece played. If she was successful in her residency, others would hear it, too, and she’d finally prove herself capable of not only playing but also creating good string music. She’d rise above the title of simple musician to something special. A real artist.
Bree walked the short couple of blocks away from the shoreline to Stella’s cottage, set back against the wooded area. Her stomach dipped when she spotted a big green passenger van with the DNR emblem on the doors. Darren stood on the porch, opening and closing the screen door. Then he went inside.
Bree bit her lip. Maybe he’d only stopped by. And maybe she was acting like a kid with a school yard crush, suddenly afraid to talk to the man. Good grief, she’d see him next week at class and the week after, so what was the big deal?
He was the big deal. Big and strong and attractive, Darren fell on the other side of the bell curve compared to the men she knew. Not that she’d dated all that much before Philip, but she was used to musicians, not strapping outdoorsmen with a chip a mile wide on their broad shoulders.
Walking forward, Bree stepped up onto the screened porch and rapped on the door, then opened it. “Hello?”
Stella hustled down the hallway and waved her in. “Come in the kitchen and you can help me finish dinner.”
Bree heard the sound of water running from upstairs followed by a clinking of metal against metal. Then the running faucet again.
“Darren’s fixing a couple of things for me. And he’s staying for dinner.”
“Oh, then I don’t want to intrude.” Bree backed up a step or two.
“Nonsense.” Stella dropped her voice to a whisper. “I purposely left my purse behind so he’d have to stop by. I wanted you two to get to know each other better.”
“Stella...” Bree followed her friend into the kitchen.
“Oh, come on. Have a little fun.” Stella wiggled her overly penciled eyebrows. “He could use a little female attention.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Bree couldn’t imagine Darren having any trouble getting a date.
“Broken engagement with my granddaughter. She did the breaking.” Stella pursed her lips, obviously not pleased.
“Oh, wow. Darren and Raleigh?” Bree had heard rumors a couple of summers ago about another man. She didn’t know Darren was the one who’d been jilted. Betrayed.
Stella nodded. “Be nice to him. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Stella!” Bree felt for the guy. She really did. It made perfect sense that he’d avoided her. Well, Darren didn’t have to worry. Bree had broken it off with Philip because he’d made her choose between him and her music. She couldn’t risk another romantic entanglement. No way.
Stella handed her a small cutting board. “He’s a good man.”
“I’m sure he is—”
