Small-Town Hearts (14 page)

“I'm always traveling from venue to venue, so stocking multiple kitchens and shopping hasn't made the short list. If I'm desperate for home cooking then I call a friend and beg an invitation.”

Meg swept him a knowing look. “I don't expect you have to beg very hard.”

He grinned and shrugged, teasing. “That depends on the friend. You don't eat out much?”

“Barely at all,” she admitted. “By the time my day is done I couldn't care less what I eat before I crawl into bed. I grab a sandwich. Or scramble some eggs. Or beg off Mom and Dad. But I don't cook. My domesticity stops at the baking oven and the candy counter.”

“Life filled with cookies, candies and you.” Danny grinned at her. “I could get used to that.”

“For four weeks. And then you're leaving,” she reminded him.

“M-Meggie! D-Danny! Hey, you guys!”

Meg turned. Ben's enthusiasm was contagious. “Hey, Ben. How're you doing?”

“Ben, my friend, good morning.” Danny clasped Ben's hand with all the gentility of the executive he was, meeting Ben's gaze, his smile and his somewhat questionable hands without a glimmer of hesitation.

Meg could have fallen in love right there. Danny's integrity shined through his acceptance of the disabled young man. “Are you hungry? I've got maple twists here.”

“Mom made breakfast,” Ben explained, then waved an arm across the park round to the general area of their parents. “W-we're waiting for traffic to clear a little. Just a little.”

Meg smiled. “Us, too.”

“You didn't walk?” Ben frowned as though surprised, then slapped a hand to his head. “I forgot you broke your arm, Meggie! How is it today, is it okay? Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” Meg slipped her good arm around her brother's waist and hugged him. “And thanks for asking. Yes, Danny drove and then we're heading to the festival. Mom said she's bringing you to the fireworks tonight?”

“Yes, I love fireworks now, don't I, Meggie? When I was a little kid—” he shifted Danny's way, his gaze sincere and innocent “—I used to be afraid but Meggie made me go. She'd say, ‘Ben Russo, Russos aren't whiny-pants, we're not afraid of anything, and you're going. Fireworks are fun.' So I went—” he leaned forward as though confiding in Danny “—but I was still scared. For a while. Then I grew up.”

“Meg is bossy.”

Ben nodded. “Yes, she is.”

“Hey.” Meg eyed the two of them. “First, Benjamin, it was good for you to get used to them and I did you a big favor.” She swung her attention back to Danny and arched a brow of candor. “And you keep your opinions to yourself. I'm not the least bit bossy.”

“Hey, guys.” Hannah paused the loaded van opposite them, swept the trio and the traffic a glance as she waited her turn to progress around the circle. “Is Meg bossing you guys around?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“No.” Meg fixed the two men with a steel-eyed look, then crossed to the van while Hannah waited for Blair to give her the okay sign to move. With the round park configuration, and the five churches facing the round, access to I-86 sometimes took long minutes if you wandered through the village at the wrong time. Like now. “You're all set?”

“Yup. I've got everything on board for both booths.”

“Thanks, Hannah. I know I said I'd do it, but—”

Hannah flashed her immobilized arm a look of sympathy. “Just remember I'm more available in the summer and be glad it happened now. If it had to happen at all,” she added. “But…” She leaned closer, one eye on the traffic cop, and directed her words to Meg. “This opens a great window of opportunity, if you get my drift. For those smart enough—”

“Brave enough,” Meg corrected.

Hannah acknowledged that with a frank smile. “And brave enough to take it. You're guaranteed to miss one hundred percent of the chances you don't take, Meg.”

“Except I've already missed one hundred percent of the ones I
did
take. A lousy batting average,” Meg said.

The deputy raised a beckoning hand toward Hannah. She nodded and released the brake. “Whenever God closes a door…”

“I get it, I get it. But generally when I open windows, all I get is bugs.”

“Cynical.” Hannah smiled at Danny, winked at Meg and eased forward. “And just when I thought you were beginning to soften up.”

Meg backed away from the van, considering Hannah's words.

She
had
gotten cynical, and it wasn't exactly a stellar quality. But changing those inner doubts, those cast-out feelings? That task proved much tougher than she'd thought.

Danny's smile tugged her toward him. A huge part of her wanted to resist. She knew he was temporary, and she'd been twice burned.

But another part of her yearned for the romance, the kindliness and steadfastness she read in his gaze, his smile. Try as she might, she couldn't move fully forward or fully back, and the indecision weighed heavy on her soul.

A normal girl would have just gone for the ride, summer romance or not, to see what might develop.

Caution dictated she couldn't do that, but longing pushed her forward, caught like the nice-looking sheriff's deputy behind her, directing traffic around him while stuck immobile in the middle.

Danny reached for her hand once she stepped onto the boardwalk. “I think we'll be clear enough to get out if we head back to the car now.”

“You're right.” She smiled up at him.

He leaned closer. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Ah. Fine.” He nodded as if that one word held all the answers. “Gotcha.”

Ben headed back toward the park with them. “I'll s-see you later, okay, guys?”

“Yes.” Meg gave him a true smile, knowing big changes might be in store for her little brother and wondering how he'd handle them.

In God's hands. In His time.

She knew that. Believed it. Why on Earth did she have such a hard time living it? Why did she always need to force God's hand?

“Whatever has you looking that serious needs to stop right now.” Danny halted their progress, turned her to face him and raised her chin. “It's the Fourth of July, we've got a glorious day, and unless it's your arm bothering you, you need to relax. Stop anticipating the next wrong turn.”

“And if I'm looking at him?”

He scratched his jaw, winked and smiled. “And if you're not?”

“I'm being a jerk, aren't I?”

“Kind of. But you're still cute, so I'm willing to chance it.”

Meg scanned the green, the crowd thinning as people hurried off to picnics, barbecues and festivals held to honor the day. “Then I'm done worrying. And whining.”

“You haven't whined. But the worrying does need to stop. We take this one day at a time, got it? I'm still hungry, and there's a great festival a few minutes away. I say we change into comfortable clothes and head over, all right?”

“Okay.”

He opened the car door, watched as she maneuvered the shoulder belt into place with her left hand. “I could have helped.”

“I've got six weeks of fumbling, which means six weeks to get good at all this. But thanks.”

“You're welcome, Miss Stubborn.”

Danny climbed into the driver's seat, fastened his belt and started the engine before looking her way. “Tenacity is what's kept you building your business, step by step, layer by layer. The stubbornness?” He made a face. “That could get us both in trouble.” He eased the car around and headed back out the church driveway. “But I'm a Romesser and a Graham, Megs, Irish and German. We wrote the book on trouble.”

“Which means?”

“In baseball terms, I'll go whatever way the ball curves and in the end, I'll make the play as needed.”

“Did you just compare me to a baseball game? Are you really that cocky?”

He grinned. “I prefer self-assured, but yes. I am. Most of the time.” He flexed his shoulder muscles for her benefit, then smiled when she laughed. “And when I'm not, I pretend I am because victory never goes to the weak.”

And that was what scared Meg the most. Not that he was self-assured; she admired that quality. But his natural ability to pretend, to play a part, to be someone he wasn't…

That scared her no end.

“I
love festival games,” Meg admitted as they walked among rows of crafters and artists, patriotic-draped booths tempting the palate and the wallet. “Let's throw darts at the balloons, okay?”

For just a moment Danny thought she was kidding. His phone vibrated, pulling his attention. He pulled it out in case it was Mary Clare, saw a text that said some of his buddies had rented a beach place in the Hamptons for the holiday weekend, and glanced around, his life suddenly completely different from what had been the norm a short year ago.

“Darts?” He noted her frown and glanced at her broken arm. “Left-handed?”

“No. You'll shoot. I'll watch. Very manly.” She tugged him forward, but nodded to the phone he still held. “Was that important?”

“Not in the least.” Looking at her, he realized the truth of his statement. Being here with her had taken on a greater measure of importance—and missing a weekend with the guys in East Hampton?

Inconsequential.

He repocketed the phone and followed Meg to a charity
booth set near amazing varieties of fried foods. His rumbling stomach made everything seem enticing. But first…

He stepped up to the dart booth and offered Meg a gentleman's bow. “Allow me, fair lady.”

Meg sighed, knowing they were the talk of the town already. “Could we make at least a small attempt at being inconspicuous? Please?”

“This coming from the woman who dresses in nineteenth-century gowns most days?” Danny grinned, paid the man for five darts, took aim and tossed lightly, hitting and breaking two balloons. He turned back her way. “I don't do inconspicuous, Megs.”

“I see that. But that's okay because I get to pick a prize, right?”

“It would be ungentlemanly to suggest otherwise. Your choice, my lady.”

Meg pointed to a brown-and-white stuffed puppy. “I'd like him, please.”

The man handed the stuffed animal over, then expressed his thanks when Danny slipped him a generous donation to the charitable foundation. Meg smiled up at Danny, clutching her dog. “That was a nice thing to do.”

“No big deal. And you noticed I showed off my skill first.”

She grinned. “I did notice that, He-Man. And we're heading toward food, I see. Again.”

“Fried vegetable medley. With ranch dressing for dipping.”

“And fried Twinkies. And Oreos.”

Danny veered left suddenly, pulling her with him. “Oops. This way first.”

Meg followed, then laughed outright. “Of course, if you're from Buffalo, the chicken wing booth is the draw of the day.”

“Just remember that a nationwide tradition started on the
streets of Buffalo. There isn't a restaurant or sports bar that doesn't try to pretend they do the best wings around. But here—” Danny waved a hand toward the oversize banner hanging above the booth before them “—is the real thing, a restaurant destined to be named to the Chicken Wing Hall of Flame at some point. I am a happy man.”

“Oh, brother.”

Danny raised a hand. “I get that this will be tricky for you one-handed, but Megs…” He drew her forward, his teasing smile saying he knew best. “You're about to fall in love. With food,” he added, the smile turning into a grin.

“Food's good,” she told him, matching his smile, her left hand feeling right and perfect sandwiched in his. “And don't they make boneless wings now? For us manually challenged people?”

“We do.” The woman behind the counter flashed a look of sympathy toward Meg's arm sling. “And we have breaded or uncoated.”

“Breaded,” Meg decided.

Danny pretended outrage. “Breaded? Boneless? That's not even close to the real thing, Megs.”

She dropped her gaze to her bad arm before drawing it back to Danny. “Right now easy sounds good.”

Sympathy flooded him, right up until he realized he was being played. “How long are you going to need babying?”

She dimpled. “Several more long weeks.”

“Great.” He paid for their order, dropped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, mindful of her injury. “And then I'm taking you up to Buffalo for wings. The real deal. Maybe we'll be able to head up there for the Chicken Wing Festival in September.”

Meg slanted her gaze to his. “I'd like that.”

He would, too. He paused, then nodded toward a gracious brick building centered on a hillside overlooking the festival field. “What's that?”

Meg turned. “The Reese School. It was a private school for young ladies of good breeding back in the day. Now it's the town museum.”

“Is it still open?”

She nodded. “They keep it open during the festival so people can browse. It's nice. Peaceful. Our link with the past. There are walls of photos of old-timers and buildings that have been destroyed. And there's clothing, artifacts, farm implements. All kinds of things. Would you like to see it?” She swept the festival a look. “This will all be here later if you'd like to see the museum before it gets dark.”

Danny generally ran from anything with the word
museum
in it, but getting to know Meg meant getting to know her roots. Her love of history was part of that. “I'd like that.”

“Good.”

The wing woman drew their attention. Danny accepted their order and led the way to a group of picnic tables in a shaded grove. By the time they were done, the early-evening temps had soared into the upper eighties.

Meg pointed out the trees surrounding the museum as they approached. “They kept this well-forested because of the young ladies' delicate compositions.”

“Seriously?”

She grinned. “Yes. We delicate flowers must be shaded, don't you know?”

“Right.” He sent her a look of disbelief as they stepped into the school's foyer. History surrounded him; the old-wood, dusty scents and sights of things long past were something he generally avoided, but not today. Not with Meg. “Will it be too warm in here for you?” He glanced at her arm. “Injuries sometimes mess up your internal temperature control.”

“I'm fine.” She moved forward, her look and bearing a testimonial to the respect she offered the past. Danny followed along, scanning artifacts and photos that had been carefully pieced together from attic remnants. He paused at one
blown-up picture and called Meg's attention to it. “Is this the same festival, way back then? Or a different one?”

Meg stepped back. She furrowed her brow, studied the picture, and then tapped a small, crimped note beneath it. “Independence Day Picnic, 1938. Same festival. Different name.”

Danny started to step back, when his eye caught something in the picture. “Meg.”

She swung back. “Hmm?”

“Look at this.” He pointed to a booth at the back of the picture, a stenciled sign above an apron-clad woman, a smile on her face, her hair pinned up in an old-fashioned style. “Do you see that name?”

Meg grinned. “Mary Sandoval's Candies.”

Danny's heart gripped. He leaned closer, peering into the glass as if doing so might make her image brighter. Clearer. “That might be my great-grandmother.”

“You don't recognize her?”

He pointed out the date. “There was no money for pictures back then. They'd just made it through the Depression, and it was right before we got into the war. Great-Grandpa fought in World War II, and when he got back they moved to Buffalo with my grandmother. He got a job at Bethlehem Steel, and Great-Grandma became friends with a Greek candy maker who gave her his supplies when he got too sick to work. And that gift was what launched Grandma Mary's success. We've got older pictures, but none from when she was younger. The few they had burned in an apartment fire in the late forties.”

He touched a reverent hand to the frame. “I wonder if I could get a copy of this? My grandmother would love it.”

“We'll ask.” Meg motioned toward a woman upstairs. “That's Janet Ernst, the town historian. She might even have more information about your family.”

“Sandoval…” The museum director pursed her lips, then worked her jaw. “When old Ike Thomas passed on, his kids
brought me a trunk of old photos from the Thomasville settlement along Route 19. It never really developed into anything other than a collection of old buildings, all gone now. Development followed the water and the rails, and Thomasville was just a touch north and south of anything that meant much. But I'll look through that trunk, see if I find anything.”

“Thanks, Janet.”

“Yes, thank you.” Danny indicated the framed newspaper clipping on the adjacent wall with a glance. “And is there a way we can copy that? For my grandmother?”

Janet studied the print, obviously reluctant, then shrugged. “Let me consider it. I don't want anything happening to the posting—paper artifacts are quite delicate, you see…”

Danny wasn't sure what she thought might happen with today's instant technology, and he knew that good photographers could actually sharpen the aged images with computerized photographic copiers, but he kept silent, allowing her time.

“How about if I have a photographer contact you,” he said finally, bridging the impasse. “She can explain the procedure and you can decide if it's safe enough.” He took a half step forward, then waved a hand toward the picture. “If that is my great-grandmother tending her Independence Day booth, it would be a wonderful thing to have in the family. Our photos of her were all lost in a fire, so anything you might have here is our family legacy.”

She caved, just like Danny had hoped she would. “Have your photographer contact me. I'm sure we can arrange something. In the meantime, I'll check out that trunk, see if there are any other old photos from that time period. It's nice for us to note your great-grandmother's success, especially with you back in town.” Her firm handshake made Danny feel like he'd passed a time-honored test, like he belonged.

“Thank you.” As Meg led the way out of the old school, Danny thought about the picture, the past, the present.

“It's weird, isn't it?” he asked Meg as they walked down the long stairway leading back toward the village green. “That place. My great-grandmother's booth, her picture.”

“It's history, Danny.” Meg gave the small town a fond glance. “That's why it fascinates me. How all the tumblers have to click into place just so for us to be where we are, when we are, who we are.”

“Or it just happens and we need to explore underlying reasons because we're innately curious beings.”

Meg shook her head, watching folks wind through the red, white and blue of the festival booths and tents, American pride showcasing the day. “I've never believed that, despite my mess ups. I believe every day has a purpose, every flower has a season, every moment has potential. If I didn't believe that, why would I get out of bed every morning?”

“Necessity? Need?” He plucked a wildflower and tucked it behind her ear, then smiled at the whimsy of his act. “What if some things just are, Megs?”

She sank onto a park bench outside the museum and motioned toward the throng of people across the way. “Some place over there is my brother, Ben.”

Danny nodded.

Meg studied the grounds, then turned Danny's way, her face serene despite the heat and her arm, neither of which could be very comfortable at the moment. “Ben's condition affects everything we do. Our choices. Our days. As his family, we've had to take on extra to provide properly for him.”

Danny sat down next to her. “Like my uncle Jerry.”

Meg watched him, waiting.

“Uncle Jerry was my mother's brother and my best friend growing up.” He saw Meg's look of puzzlement, and settled back on the bench more fully. “He had a mild case of cerebral palsy and the heart and mind of a six-year-old, but that made him the perfect playmate for me. Until I grew up and
moved away. Then I barely saw him.” He didn't try to mask the hint of regret that rode roughshod on that memory.

Meg laid her hand atop his. “I wondered why you were so good with Ben.”

Danny shrugged. “Jerry died while I was moving up in the world of corporate candy.”

“Doing your job.”

“Well, yes.” Danny frowned, her words simplistic. “I was doing my job, but I could have—”

“We know not the day or the hour,” Meg quoted Matthew's gospel. She gave Danny's hand a light squeeze. “Your regret is normal, but there are always unanswered questions or regrets when God calls someone home.”

Meg's words reflected Grandma's opinion, how she'd told Danny much the same thing. “Your experience with your uncle has made you a better person,” Meg went on. “I see that every time you're with Ben, the way you treat him. The way you bought the fruit and gave it to a food pantry. I think you do your uncle Jerry proud every single day, Danny.”

Her words buoyed him. Dark was beginning to settle. Danny stole an arm around her and tugged her closer. “Should we head over for the fireworks?”

Meg shook her head. “We're in a great spot. We might miss a couple of the ground displays, but a lot of people will watch from the hill.”

The crowd proved her right as cool night descended. People wandered up the slope, settling into lawn chairs, onto blankets, watching and anticipating the show, and at the first volley of bright-toned whistlers, Danny settled back, peaceful.

Whispered words, light laughter and the occasional voice of a child surrounded him, but his awareness was filled with the rightness of being here, his arm curved around Meg, the scent of her hair a blend of sweet and spice along his chin. He wondered if Great-Grandma had sat on this same rise,
watching fireworks with his grandmother, telling her stories, feeding her homemade candy.

His mother had sent Mary Clare to the big cities to help spread her wings, give her strength, despite the reluctance he and his father shared. Then she'd plunked him into Allegany County to help him find roots. A few weeks ago he'd have laughed at the idea of faith and family, but he wasn't laughing now, not with Meg's sweet warmth curled next to him, her appreciation of the day contagious.