In Firefly Valley (5 page)

“It's Saturday,” he pointed out.

“Believe me, I'm well aware of that, but I have less than a month to finish a dozen quilts. There are going to be a lot of late nights between now and then.” That was why Lauren had brought one of her sewing machines home. While she couldn't do the actual quilting there, she could at least piece the tops.

They'd reached the swings. Drew thrust his hands into his pants pockets and stared at Lauren for a long moment. “Okay . . . well . . .” This was the first time he'd seemed tongue-tied, and she wondered at the cause. Finally he said, “It was nice seeing you again,” and headed toward Kate and Greg, who were saying their good-byes.

Fiona ran up to Lauren. “You spent a lot of time with that man.” Her tone left no doubt that she disapproved.

“Yes, I did.” Lauren was the mother; she had no need to explain her actions to her daughter.

“I don't like him.”

But I do
. Though she hadn't expected to, Lauren had enjoyed the time they'd spent together. Somehow Drew had banished her melancholy thoughts, and somehow she'd managed to diminish the pain she'd seen in his eyes.

She wouldn't see him again, for he'd told her he was returning to California in the morning, but that was good. Drew was a complicated man, and complications were one thing Lauren did not need. Drew was also unlike anyone she'd ever met. That had to be the reason—the only reason—why Lauren found herself sketching his face that evening when she was supposed to be designing a quilt.

H
ello, Blake,” Marisa said as she left the church the next morning and saw him standing at the foot of the steps. Her mother was still inside, chatting with friends, but Marisa had wanted to escape the endless refrains of “so glad you're back.” Blake might provide the respite she needed.

Though she refused to accept her mother's theory of love at first sight, Marisa wouldn't deny that she enjoyed his company. For whatever reason, none of the men she'd met in Atlanta had affected her the way Blake Kendall did.

She smiled at him. “I thought your friend might be with you.” Greg had said nothing about a second guest, but Marisa wouldn't have been surprised if the blond-haired man had shared Blake's cabin last night. The couches in the living area of each cabin opened into beds, providing accommodations for larger families or overnight guests.

“Drew?” Blake shook his head. “He was only here for the day. He had an early morning flight to California, so he stayed at a hotel near the airport.”

Marisa felt her pulse racing. It seemed that every time she was with Blake, her heart beat faster, her cheeks flushed, and she felt as if every nerve ending was on alert. That had never, ever happened before.

Keeping her voice even, as if this were an ordinary conversation and not one that turned her world upside down, Marisa said, “It seems like a long way to come for such a short time.” Of course, if Drew Carroll was as wealthy as her mother claimed, he could have chartered a plane. That would have made the trip less onerous.

Blake nodded his agreement. “It was a lot of travel time for him, but it was good to see Drew. It's been years since he and Greg and I were together.”

“Was that at Stanford?” Mom had given Marisa an abbreviated history of Drew's first visit to Rainbow's End, one that included a few choice comments about the man's poor judgment. Apparently Drew had made a strong impression, albeit a negative one.

“We all shared an apartment our senior year,” Blake explained. “After graduation, I moved into the city, while Greg and Drew stayed in Silicon Valley. I rarely talked to Drew after that and probably wouldn't have seen Greg if he hadn't been a client.”

Marisa wasn't surprised. Though she and her college classmates had vowed to keep in touch, distance and the pressure of jobs and family had taken their toll on what she'd once thought would be lifelong friendships.

“So you wound up having a reunion in Dupree, Texas.” It was more than a little ironic that three cosmopolitan men had found each other here.

“The Heart of the Hills.”

Marisa chuckled. “You saw the sign.”

“It was pretty hard to miss, but that's all I saw of the town. Could I convince you to give me a guided tour?”

Though he'd been standing only a couple feet from her, Blake took a step closer, and as he did, Marisa caught a whiff of his aftershave. It was spicy and musky and made her want to take a deep breath, simply to inhale it. Instead, she tipped her head to the side and asked, “Do you have five minutes to spare?”

Blake's smile showcased teeth so evenly spaced they had to be the result of orthodontia. “I just might. Maybe even ten.”

“In that case, we'll walk.” It was a beautiful morning, perfect weather for a stroll, especially a stroll with Blake.

“In those shoes?” He stared at the four-inch heels Marisa had worn to church.

“Sure. It's a small town.” After she told her mother that Blake would take her back to Rainbow's End, Marisa rejoined him and pointed to the street in front of the church. “I don't know whether you noticed the sign, but this is Lone Star Trail. When the town was founded early in the twentieth century, it was called Main Street, but for a while after Sinclair Lewis's book of that name was published, people didn't want any connection to Main Street. The mayor proposed Lone Star Trail, and it's been called that ever since.”

Marisa paused for a second, trying to judge Blake's reaction. When he appeared genuinely interested, she added, “The other east-west streets are all avenues. Avenue A, Avenue B—you get the idea. And, sorry to disappoint you, but I don't know why the town fathers decided to use the alphabet rather than calling them First and Second Street.” When Blake merely nodded, Marisa laughed. “You really do want to learn about Dupree, don't you?”

Blake held up both hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged. Besides, only a crazy man would pass up the chance for a walk with a pretty girl.”

As flirtations went, it was mild, and yet Marisa felt blood heating her cheeks. “Flattery will get you . . .” She paused, trying to think of something outrageous to say while she waited for her pulse to stop racing. “An all-expenses-paid trip to the east side of Dupree.”

“Which is where we were heading anyway.”

“Exactly.” They walked slowly, passing the bank, the town hall, and the supermarket that did double duty as a newsstand. When they reached the movie theater, Marisa paused. “You'll notice that it's called the Bijou, like hundreds of other cinemas in the country, and that it has only one screen. The films are tenth run.”

“You're exaggerating.”

She shrugged, gazing at the building where she and Lauren had
watched so many movies. It was old enough now that instead of appearing old-fashioned, it seemed classic. “I may be exaggerating a little, but all the shows are at least six months old. One week each month, the features are what the owner calls classics.”

“Like
Star Wars
?”

“Think older. Much older. Think
Casablanca
and
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
”

Blake's chuckle warmed Marisa's heart. “Sounds like my grandparents' generation's movies.”

“Exactly. If Mr. Benton could find them, I wouldn't be surprised to see silent films on the list.” The owner had grown up in the fifties and had what Mom described as a terminal case of nostalgia. Unfortunately, Dupree's younger generation wasn't particularly enamored with film stars whose careers had ended decades earlier, and attendance was low during nostalgia weeks.

Blake looked down the street to the business establishment that fronted the main highway. “Let me guess. That's the only gas station in town.”

“A shrewd guess.”

“Is there a soft drink machine in front?”

“Of course. As you've already discovered, Dupree is the quintessential American small town. But if you were looking for Coke or Pepsi, you might be disappointed. This is Texas, so we offer Dr Pepper.” While the gas station's sign had been updated over the years, some things hadn't changed, including the owner's loyalty to the soft drink that had its origin not too far from Dupree.

Marisa frowned as she thought of the many paydays Mom had given her money to buy a Dr Pepper if she would wait for her father and walk home with him as soon as his shift ended. It was only as she grew older that she realized Mom was trying to keep him from stopping at the liquor store or the town's sole bar and drinking half of his paycheck but didn't want to humiliate him by coming to the station herself. Marisa forced her lips into a smile. Nothing would be gained by dredging up painful memories.

“Is that all of Dupree?” Marisa wondered if Blake had sensed her melancholy mood, because he gave her shoulders a quick squeeze when he spoke, as if seeking to comfort her.

“Oh no,” she responded. “There are more shops on Pecan, and of course there are houses. Mostly single family homes, but the south end of town has an apartment building for lower-income families.”

“Is it nice?”

“Not very. I'd say it's kind of dilapidated now.” How odd. She'd grown up with Hickory View and never gave it a second thought until Blake asked about it. “It didn't start out that way. According to my mother, it was once an attractive building, but the owner got tired of the constant repairs and let some maintenance slip. Now everything's so old that anyone who can afford to live elsewhere does.”

“That's sad.”

Though his responses were terse, they continued to reveal new facets to Blake. He, a stranger who was only passing through Dupree, seemed more concerned about Hickory View than most of the town's permanent residents.

“It is sad,” Marisa agreed, “especially when you know that the owner is the town's former mayor. He doesn't live here any longer, but from all accounts, he could afford to renovate it.”

Blake nodded again. “I've heard similar stories about absentee landlords.” He gave Marisa's shoulder another squeeze. “We can't solve the world's problems this morning, so I propose that we try to enjoy the beautiful day. I wouldn't mind seeing more of the town.” He winked and added, “Lead on, Macduff.”

As Blake let his arm drop, Marisa felt a sense of loss. It was probably silly, but the combination of his sympathetic words and his arm around her shoulders had made her feel more than comforted; she had felt connected. The sense that they shared something special had filled her heart, but with the physical connection severed, she'd been jolted back to the reality that they were virtual strangers.

Marisa shook her head, determined to regain the camaraderie that had made the walk so pleasant. “My English teacher would tell
you that Shakespeare wrote, ‘Lay on, Macduff,' not ‘lead on.' She claimed that's one of the Bard's most frequently misquoted phrases.”

Blake's laugh was light and carefree, telling Marisa she'd succeeded in changing the mood along with the subject. “We must have had the same English teacher. Mine said the same thing but told us that it's been misquoted for more than a century. According to her, in something like 1898, a London drunk named Joseph Callaway is reported to have shouted ‘Lead on, Macduff' when he was being arrested for disorderly conduct. So I'm in good or, rather, dubious, company.”

Blake chuckled. Though Marisa guessed she was supposed to laugh, she couldn't when the word
drunk
kept reverberating through her brain.

“Your dad's the town drunk.”

“How's it
feel, living with a drunk?”

“Your old man's nothing
but a drunk.”

It had been years since she'd heard the cruel taunts, but the memories lingered, ready to ambush her when she least expected it. It wasn't Blake's fault. He had no way of knowing that his story would touch a sensitive chord. Marisa took a deep breath, trying to regain her equilibrium.

“Are you sure you can stand the excitement?” she asked, forcing a lilt to her voice.

Blake nodded. “If your feet can survive it, so can I.”

They began to retrace their footsteps. When they reached Live Oak, Marisa turned south. She wouldn't even venture a glance in the opposite direction, for she had no desire to see the house that held so many memories. Lauren claimed that it was vacant now but that the last tenants had taken good care of the yard, nurturing Mom's flowers.

Marisa didn't care if they'd turned it into the Taj Mahal. It was still the house where dreams had died. She would not revisit it. Instead, she put on her tour guide persona and proceeded to tell Blake that the north-south streets were named for trees, pointing
out the live oaks that had given this street its name. Four blocks later, they turned on Avenue H and headed to Pecan.

Marisa wondered whether Blake would comment on the number of empty storefronts. Although Lauren had said that the mayor and town council believed the changes to Rainbow's End would attract new businesses to Dupree, it was too soon to see if their predictions would come true, and so a full third of the shops on Pecan remained vacant.

Blake said nothing, although Marisa saw the assessing looks he gave the first two shops. One was boarded up with plywood, while the other had a now-dusty plate glass window that had once been filled with toys. Fortunately, the next one practically shouted prosperity.

“This is my friend Lauren's shop,” Marisa said as she paused in front of Hill Country Pieces. The storefront boasted a new blue awning and a polished oak door, but what drew the passersby's attention was the red, white, and blue quilt with the Texas flag as its central design hanging in the front window.

Blake gave a low whistle. “I don't know much about quilts, but that's impressive.”

In less talented hands, it might have been gaudy, but Lauren had chosen lighter shades of blue to contrast with the vivid blue of the flag, and the only red she'd used besides the flag itself was for the outer border and the backing.

“She's very good. So is Samantha.” Marisa led the way across the street to Sam's Bootery, the family-owned enterprise that was gaining nationwide recognition, thanks to Kate and her suggestions for Samantha's website.

Blake studied the assortment of footwear. The boots ranged from child size to adult and from relatively simple to intricate designs, but what they shared was meticulous tooling.