Fool for Love (17 page)

“I’m okay. Better, now that I’ve shared the news with you. Although I have a strong support system down here, it helps to share concerns with family. But as I said, this goes no further. Say nothing to Luke or Rocky or, God forbid, Daisy. Nothing to the cousins or your aunts and uncles. If they hear it from anyone, let it be your dad.”

“Understood.” Just as his dad wanted to spare them heartache and worry, so did Devlin.

“And don’t let on to your father that I confided in you. I’ll try to convince him to come clean, with you at least, but until then…”

“Soul of discretion.” The last thing he wanted to do was add to his mom’s anxiety.

“I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow and fill you in on treatment specifics or anything else you want to know.”

“I appreciate that, Mom, and rest easy. I won’t hassle Dad with additional reports.”

“Knowing you, I don’t entirely trust your wording. Should I be concerned?”

“Absolutely not.” He said his good-byes, barred visions of his dad’s physical suffering, and focused on how he could help. Clearly the man was concerned about the future security of his wife and children.

Turning to his laptop, Devlin keyed in the password to his personal business accounts, his mind churning with calculations and projections. “No worries, you proud bastard.” He couldn’t wish away disease, but he could work magic with finances.

SEVENTEEN

The only difference between this morning and every other morning Chloe had spent in Sugar Creek was that she hadn’t gone to the library straightaway. A cable guy had knocked on the door announcing he was there to fill a work order. An order initiated by Devlin. The upgraded service combined cable television, phone service, and high-speed Internet. Since Daisy didn’t own a computer or any wireless devices, Chloe assumed the Internet service was intended for her benefit. She could’ve refused the gesture but didn’t. Now she could check e-mail and research recipes at her convenience without having to worry about leaving Daisy alone for too long. Not that Chloe wanted to be her shadow, but ever since she’d lied and baked behind Chloe’s back, she didn’t trust the woman not to pull a harebrained solo stunt.

Chloe was especially concerned since Daisy’s secret recipe cupcakes had tasted less than spectacular. Clearly, Daisy had screwed up the ingredients or the measurements. Chloe had studied Daisy’s recipe card, and theoretically the cupcakes should’ve tasted insanely good. In a private moment, Chloe had offered to assist Daisy or to at least observe as she made a second batch. The proud, stubborn woman had refused. Chloe wouldn’t have cared except Daisy had seemed even more distracted and even a little depressed all through Monday.

This morning in a desperate attempt to rekindle the woman’s confidence, Chloe had begged
her
assistance. “If I’m going to offer my two cents at Cupcake Lovers, I figure I should invest some time in the art. I’d really love to swing this decoration,” she said, flashing a photo she’d found in a magazine, “but I have no experience with fondant.”

“I’d love to help you, kitten, but I have a date.”

On cue, Vincent Redding knocked on the door. “Here to take Daisy on a country drive,” he told Chloe.

She couldn’t have been more surprised. Or thrilled! Maybe
he
could charm Daisy out of her funk. More than ever Chloe was certain Oslow’s owner had a crush on her employer. On their way out, Daisy had presented Chloe with “a mission,” after which Chloe had immediately called and enlisted Monica’s help. Even though she and Devlin had struck a truce, she hadn’t seen him since Sunday night and felt awkward about her appointed shopping excursion.

Pulling into Monica’s drive, Chloe tapped the horn, then checked her makeup in the mirror. Not that she wanted to impress Devlin, but … oh, who was she kidding? Since he’d addressed their attraction, she’d been unable to think of little else.

The passenger door wrenched open and Monica plopped inside. “Ready when you are.”

“Thanks for breaking away on such short notice.”

“A welcome distraction, trust me. I plan on doing major damage to our credit card. It’s not like I’m saving up for a nursery or anything.”

“Whoa. Whoa.” Chloe shifted back into park and took a good look at her friend. Clearly, she was upset. “What’s wrong?”

Staring straight ahead, Monica sniffed. “This morning Leo informed me that he wants to stop trying for a baby.”

“Forever?”

“For now. Says we’ve been at it for three months and since I haven’t conceived…”

Heart in throat, Chloe reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand.

“As if it’s my fault.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way. He’s probably just … frustrated.”

“And I’m
not
?” She blew out a breath. “Sorry. Not your fault.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault.” Chloe dug deep for the right words. Instead of getting her friend more worked up, she decided to play it cool. Hopefully, no, definitely this was a temporary glitch. “You know three months isn’t really all that long.”

Monica cast her a look that said,
Put yourself in my shoes,
in which case three months probably felt like forever.

“Sometimes,” Chloe tried again, “when you want something too bad, when you try too hard…”

“Yeah, yeah. Sometimes the best things happen when you’re not expecting them.” Monica quirked a small smile. “You sound like Leo.”

“No, I don’t. His voice is much deeper.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “Okay. Let me see Daisy’s shopping list.”

Smiling now, Chloe plucked the folded paper from her purse and passed it over.

Monica scanned the full page of the older woman’s chicken scratch while Chloe backed onto the street. “Must’ve been in a hurry,” she said. “Normally Daisy has beautiful handwriting.” She squinted, then whistled. “Everything from garden supplies to guest towels. Wait. What’s Big Al?”

Chloe blushed. “Nothing I’ll find at a local department store. Trust me.”

“Five new Sunday frocks, including handbags and shoes?”

“She’s determined to overhaul the last of her conservative wardrobe.”

“No more hats and gloves? No matching shoes and purses? I always thought she looked so regal.”

“Good-bye, Queen Elizabeth, hello, Lady Gaga.”

“That’s sort of sad.” Monica shivered. “And scary.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find a moderate compromise. As it happens, we wear the same size. I can try on everything and match up accessories. Just have to keep in mind I’m standing in for a senior. Hemline appropriate and all that.”

“Don’t recall ‘personal stylist’ being part of your job description.”

“It wasn’t, but last night Daisy got me talking about some of my past jobs and I mentioned my brief stint in the fashion world.”

“Ah, yes. You wanted to be the next Vera Wang.”

“Until I learned I had no real talent for design. Then I caught the photography bug, but sucked at that, too.”

“At least you tried,” Monica said. “Lots of people have special interests, but never pursue them. Take me for instance. I’ve always wanted to play the fiddle, but have I ever taken a lesson?
You
would have bought the instrument and signed up for personal instruction with a renowned violinist.”

“Yeah, but if it didn’t come naturally, if it turned out to be more stressful than fun, I would’ve dropped out.”

“Sounds smart to me. Why invest time and money in something that doesn’t bring you joy or at least satisfaction? My point is, you’ll never have to look back and wish you would have pounced on an opportunity. You pounced plenty and you’re a fascinating person because of it.”

Chloe smiled. “Stop or I won’t be able to get my head out the door when we stop.”

“Sure you will. Plenty of room.” She glanced around the car. “This thing’s a freaking boat. How do you even see over the hood? It must stick out twenty feet.”

Chloe laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m sort of used to it now.” She’d been driving Daisy all over town and then some. They’d been in and out of several artisans’ shops, Oslow’s, the drugstore, the library, the hairdresser’s, Gemma’s Bakery, and the Sugar Shack. The only place they hadn’t been was J.T.’s Department Store. Chloe hadn’t stopped in on her own because she didn’t want Devlin to think she was looking for him or snooping around his business. Even though, admittedly, she was curious about the place that dominated his life.

Then this morning, Daisy had presented Chloe with “the list,” instructing her to shop exclusively at J.T.’s and to charge everything to her account. Chloe had changed her clothes three times before settling on slim-cut jeans, wedge-heeled boots, a scoop-necked tee, and her vintage leather jacket. She’d fluffed her hair, plumped her lips with gloss, and spritzed on her favorite perfume. All the while reminding herself why it was bad to encourage Devlin’s attention.

As if reading her mind, Monica shot her a sly grin. “So how are things between you and Dev?”

“Fine. I guess. I haven’t seen him since Sunday.”

“From the way you’re sexed up, I guess you’re hoping to see him today.”

Cheeks hot, Chloe focused on the road. “I’m not sexed up.”

“It’s okay, you know. Being attracted to the man. He’s single. You’re single.”

“Newly single.”

“Have you heard from Ryan?”

“No.” She was torn between relief and outrage. “Goes to show what I meant to him. Not a call, text, or e-mail. I could be dead for all he knows. Or cares.”

“Maybe he feels bad. Maybe he’s too embarrassed to check up on you.”

“Whatever.” The longer she was away from him, the more she wondered what she ever saw in him. The longer she was away from Manhattan, the more she felt like a woman caught between two worlds and not wholly belonging to either.

“Tell your dad about the breakup yet?”

“You asked me that yesterday.”

“And?”

“Same answer as yesterday. No. Although I did try to call him last night. Got his voice mail. Left a message, nothing specific. I’m waiting for a callback.”

“You’ll feel better once you tell him.”

“I doubt it.”

Monica smiled. “Don’t you want to move on with your life?”

“I
am
moving on with my life. New motto: Embrace the adventure. Live in the moment.”

“So if Dev asks you out—”

“He won’t.”

“But if he does, you’ll embrace the adventure, right?”

“He’s totally wrong for me.” Which was probably why she was so drawn to him. Another controlling alpha male.
Hello, heartache.

“So he’s not Mr. Right. Doesn’t mean he can’t be Mr. Right
Now.
”

Chloe laughed. “You’re such a bad influence!”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

They shared geeky, sappy, best-girlfriend smiles; then Monica gestured to the upcoming intersection. “Maple Street dead ahead. Make a right. That’s it,” she said, pointing to a multi-level building that took up half the block. “Doesn’t look like there’s a parking space on the street, so you’ll have to swing around to the small lot on the side.”

“It’s not as quaint as some of the other buildings in town,” Chloe noted as she followed Monica’s instructions, “but it’s not very modern looking either.” Frankly, considering the vibrant personalities of the Monroes, J.T.’s Department Store was surprisingly unimpressive.

“From what I understand, Devlin’s dad and grandfather and even his great-grandfather put most of their time and energy into the workings of the store. I think the last time this building had a major exterior overhaul was in the nineteen-fifties.”

“I can see why Devlin’s keen on renovating,” Chloe said as she nosed into a parking space. “It’s not much to look at.”

“Maybe not, but J.T.’s stocks quality items for reasonable prices. The staff is friendly and efficient, and they have a kick-butt no-hassle return policy. As the saying goes, don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Chloe breathed in the crisp, cool air as she and Monica rounded the building. Her senses buzzed with anticipation as they neared what appeared to be one of three front entrances. She eyed the old-fashioned white cursive penned across the green-and-blue-striped awning:
J.T. Monroe’s Department Store—established in 1885.
Three years prior to Oslow’s. Clutching Daisy’s shopping list, Chloe pushed through the glass doors with the same excitement as when she’d first entered Manhattan’s historic Macy’s. She couldn’t explain the immense wonder and joy she experienced when she spied the old-fashioned candy counter and the display featuring moose socks, moose mugs, and moose stuffed animals in three distinct styles and sizes. Charming!

“Shoot.”

Chloe looked over and saw Monica checking text messages.

“It’s Leo. He wants me to call. I’m going to step outside for this. You go on. I’ll meet up with you when I’m done.”

“Take your time. I need to assemble five Sunday ensembles, remember? Including handbags and shoes!”

“I still want to know about Big Al,” Monica said as she backed toward the door they’d entered.

“I am so crossing that off the list,” Chloe mumbled to herself. “I am
not
shopping for a vibrator.”

“Can I help you?”

Chloe glanced up into the sparkling eyes of an overeager salesclerk—an older woman with a fondness for overprocessed hair and excessive makeup—praying she hadn’t heard her grumbling about a dildo. Blushing, Chloe stuffed the list in her jacket pocket and smiled. “Why, yes … Mitzi,” she added after glancing at the woman’s name tag. “Could you direct me to the ladies’ fashion department?”

Three seconds later, as she trailed after Mitzi trying not to think unkind thoughts about the woman’s overly tight pants and overly swishing hips, Chloe’s own phone chimed with an incoming text.

“‘Leo wants to make up,’” she read aloud. “‘Now.’”

“Excuse me?” Mitzi asked.

“Nothing. Sorry.” According to the text, Monica was sorry, too. She was skipping shopping in favor of a kiss-and-makeup quickie with her husband, leaving Chloe on her own. She tried not to feel bad about her friend’s good fortune. So what if she had to shop alone? So what if she bumped into Devlin? As much as she’d fantasized about tearing his clothes off and doing it against a tree or in a closest or under a covered bridge, she could resist temptation.