Authors: Mariah Stewart
Vanessa tapped her fingers on the countertop for a moment.
“You can ask Jackie at the gift shop where she gets her things, you know, the coffee mugs and the T-shirts.”
“I’m going to need to get a bunch of those to go into the bags.”
“Talk to Jackie. I’m sure she can order whatever you want.”
“Great. Thanks for the suggestion.” Lucy noticed the time on the wall clock. “I should get going. I want to finish my run with enough time to get back to the inn and take a shower …”
“Hot date?” Vanessa asked as if she knew.
She probably did, Lucy thought. This
was
St. Dennis, and Vanessa’s best friend, Steffie, was married to Clay’s business partner.
“Just dinner.” Lucy tried to make it sound as casual as possible but didn’t think Vanessa was buying it.
“Have a good time.”
“Thanks.” Lucy started to the door.
“Hey, Lucy,” Vanessa called to her just as Lucy was about to push the door open. “Everyone’s happy that you’re going to be around this summer.”
“Thanks, Vanessa. So am I …”
And growing happier by the day, Lucy admitted as she finished her run through town and headed back to the inn. It seemed that every day there was one more reason why she was glad to be back.
She chatted with her mother for a few minutes in the family’s second-floor TV room, then took a shower and dressed for her date. Clay had said very casual, so she pulled on a pair of jeans and a knit top in a soft shade of gray that had fabric flowers around the slightly dropped neckline. She slipped her feet into a pair of ballet flats and started out of her room just as her phone began to ring.
“Luce, would you mind driving over instead of me picking you up?” Clay asked when she picked up.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, no, I just got a late start.”
“I don’t mind at all,” she told him. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” She hesitated. “Are you sure everything is all right?”
“Positive. I’ll see you when you get here. Just park out back and come in through the kitchen.”
Lucy said good night to her mother and her nephew, who were watching a movie.
“Where’s Diana?” she asked.
“She’s at a friend’s for a sleepover,” her mother replied, her eyes still on the TV screen.
“Gramma, wouldn’t it be cool to have a magic wand like Harry Potter’s?” Lucy heard D.J. ask.
“Very cool, dear. Though magic isn’t something to be taken lightly.” Grace turned to Lucy. “Have fun. Tell Clay we said hello.”
Lucy made a mental note to add “Magic isn’t something to be taken lightly” to the list of things to discuss with her mother one of these days.
“Will do.” Lucy kissed the top of her mother’s head, ruffled her nephew’s hair, and left the room. She bustled down the steps, waved to the night clerk who had just come on duty, and went to her car wondering what was up with Clay. He’d sounded distracted on the phone.
She parked near the back of the farmhouse and walked to the porch, enjoying the soft evening air that was perfumed by a mass of tulips that ran along the side of the house. There were large clumps of peonies that were a few weeks away from opening, and a huge lilac that was just about to bloom. The sun was drawing down, its fading light casting a golden glow across the fields where the grain was already up and moving gently in an easy breeze. Lucy paused for a moment on the steps to take it all in.
“I thought I heard a car.” Clay appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing?”
“Just looking.” She turned and smiled. “It’s so peaceful and quiet here.”
“Well, right now it is. About an hour ago, there were fourteen eight-year-old boys running around out there playing …” He stopped for a moment. “I
don’t really know what they were playing, but they were loud.”
“Where are they now?”
“Brooke and two of the other T-ball team mothers took them all out for pizza.” He opened the screen door. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.” She climbed the steps and followed him into the kitchen, where he put down the wooden spoon he’d been holding to give her a welcoming hug and a kiss on the side of her mouth. “Whoa, look who’s cooking!”
“I thought we’d eat in tonight.”
“Something smells amazing.” She sniffed appreciatively at the air.
“Roasted asparagus, baked halibut, and brown rice,” he told her.
“Sounds delicious. I’ve never had roasted asparagus, but I’m game.” She glanced around the room. “What can I do to help?”
“You can set the table in the dining room, if you want,” he suggested.
“These plates, I’m guessing?” She lifted two plates from the counter.
“Right. Knives, forks, spoons are in the first drawer there on your left.” Clay pulled on an oven mitt and opened the oven door.
“Got it.”
Lucy went into the dining room and turned on the wall switch for the overhead light. The ancient chandelier came to life and enhanced the now-pale light that filtered through the back window. She’d always loved this room, and felt oddly pleased that so little had changed. The walnut dining room furniture was
the same; the china cupboards held the same dishes she remembered the Madisons using for Sunday dinners, and the sideboard held the same glass candlesticks. The red Oriental rug that was worn from years of footsteps still covered the wide plank floor, and the lace tablecloth was the same one she remembered. She set the table, then stood in front of the china cupboard.
When she sensed Clay in the doorway, she said, “I like that nothing’s changed.”
He shrugged. “When my mom and dad moved to South Carolina, they were going into a small place in one of those over-fifty-five communities and couldn’t agree on what to take and what to leave. So they basically took nothing with them and bought smaller furniture for their condo. Then, when my mom bought her town house here last year, she bought all new furniture for herself.”
“I’m surprised that she didn’t want the antique pieces,” Lucy remarked.
“She said they’d all come down through my dad’s family and she’d never had a chance to have her own things. I expect Brooke will probably take some stuff, now that she’s starting to get settled over in the tenant house.”
“It was nice to walk in here and see the room the way I remembered it. It makes me feel … I don’t know, like I’m home, in a way.”
“I didn’t see any reason to change things,” he said. “I admit that decor isn’t much of a priority.”
Lucy laughed. “If you saw my apartment, you’d say it wasn’t mine either. I’ve never really had the time to do much more than buy some furniture. I spend more time in my office than I do the apartment.”
“You probably need to take a little time off now and then.”
“I know. But look who’s talking. You have more going on right now than anyone I know. You have all those crops in the ground. Stuff for the restaurants and stuff for your brewery, and then there’s the orchard. Do you really think you’re going to have time to pick everything you planted?”
“I’m hiring day pickers to do that part, ’cause you’re right. I won’t have time to do everything myself,” he confessed. “But still, I take time to do other things. I walk into town around seven every day for my morning meeting with Wade. I coach Logan’s T-ball in the spring and soccer in the fall.” He grinned. “And I cook the good stuff I grow, and I’m damned good at it.”
“Oh, aren’t we the cocky one?” She laughed.
“You can judge for yourself in about—” Clay turned to look at the timer on the stove. “Five minutes. I need to get busy.”
Clay returned to the kitchen, and moments later, Lucy joined him.
“There’s a bottle of wine opened on the counter there and two glasses,” he said. “Would you mind pouring for us?”
“Not at all.”
Lucy poured wine into the glasses and took one to Clay at the stove, pausing for just a second to watch him at work. What, she wondered, was so appealing about a man in jeans and a pullover standing over a hot stove, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows?
She handed him his glass and took a sip from her own. The wine was delicious and she looked at the
label. She took another sip and let it roll around on her tongue, and wondered if it was offered at the inn. She’d have to check.
“You look lost in serious thought,” Clay noted.
“I was thinking about this wonderful wine, and wondering if it was served at the inn.”
Clay nodded. “I had it there over the winter. It’s from Hunter’s vineyard in Ballard.”
“I had one of their wines at Vanessa’s.” She picked up the bottle and studied the label. “I might have to look into this for the wedding. Maybe I’ll drive over this week and pick up a few bottles for the menu tasting.”
Clay pulled a baking dish out of the oven and set it atop the stove. He dished brown rice from a pot on the stove into a bowl, which Lucy took into the dining room. When she returned, he had the asparagus piled in another bowl and the fish on an oval white plate and was heading into the dining room with it. Lucy grabbed his wineglass and brought it to him.
“This was such a great idea,” she said as she took her seat. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re welcome.”
He handed her the fish platter and she helped herself before passing it back to him.
“You are so not the boy I used to know,” she told him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He made a face but she could tell he wasn’t offended.
“The Clay Madison who was my best friend growing up couldn’t even spread jelly on a piece of bread without glopping it onto the floor.”
“I’ve come a long way, baby.”
“I’ll say you have.”
Midway through the meal, he said, “I almost forgot.
You wanted music.” He got up and went into the kitchen. A moment later he returned with a CD player in one hand and a stack of discs in their cases in the other. He set the player up on the sideboard and handed the CDs to Lucy. “Your choice.”
“No one can ever say that you don’t have eclectic taste.” She glanced through the plastic cases. “Bruce Springsteen, Nickelback, Tim McGraw, Maroon 5, Kenny Chesney, Bruno Mars, Rascal Flatts, Cream … Really?” She held up the psychedelic picture on the case. “Is this a test? Find the one that doesn’t go with the others?”
“My dad was a big Clapton fan.” Clay shrugged. “I’d replaced a lot of his old albums with CDs one year for his birthday. When my mom moved back, she gave them to me.”
“Hannah’s not a classic rock fan?”
“Hannah’s deep into country now.”
“And she let you keep the Rascal Flatts?”
Clay laughed. “I think she left that one here by accident.”
Lucy handed him the Tim McGraw. “Let’s live like we’re dying.”
“Good choice.” He slipped the disc into the player and turned the volume on low.
“So have you gotten a lot of work done since you’ve been in St. Dennis?” he asked.
She brought him up-to-date on all she’d accomplished in the past several days.
“Sounds like you’ve got things under control,” he noted.
“For the most part, yes. Things may be a little dicey back home, but I think we’re okay. There was an event
today that Bonnie was supposed to handle, but her ex-husband broke his leg horseback riding. She flew up to Sacramento to be with him, so she passed the event on to Corrine. I’m waiting for her to check in to let me know how things went today.” She patted the pocket of her jeans to make sure she still had her phone.
“Nice of your partner to take care of her ex.”
“I don’t think he’ll be her ex for much longer. I think they’re getting back together.” Lucy considered what that might mean for their partnership. Bonnie had said that Bob would never move back to L.A.
“How’s your new office working out in the inn?”
“It’s fine. I could never work there permanently, though. There isn’t enough room.”
They finished their meal and cleared the table, then rinsed and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher.
“This was a wonderful dinner,” Lucy told him. “Thank you again. I’d like to say I’ll reciprocate, but I don’t have a kitchen and I’m not much of a cook. However, you could come to the inn one night and see what you think of the new chef.”
“I’d love to do that, but I have to confess, I’m already a fan of Gavin’s,” he said. “I took my mom to the inn for her birthday dinner a few weeks ago.”
“Ah, that’s right. You did tell me that.”
“Want to take a stroll outside? There’s a skyful of stars tonight. I could see them from the dining room window.”
“Sure.” She picked up her wineglass on her way to the door.
Once outside, she shivered against the evening air. “I didn’t realize how cool it had gotten.”
“I’ll get you something to put on. Be right back.”
Clay disappeared into the house and returned a few minutes later with a fleece-lined jacket that he put over her shoulders. “Brooke left this in the front hall the other day when she stopped by for her mail. She still doesn’t have a separate mailbox, so the mailman leaves everything in our box,” he explained.
“Thanks. That’s much better.” She looked up at the sky. “It really is a beautiful night, and a beautiful sky. When you live in a place where there’s so much light for the stars to compete with, you forget how many there are, and how dark the nights can be when you’re in the country.”
Clay put his arm around her and she leaned against him. “ ’Member when we used to sit out here in the dark and watch for shooting stars?” she asked.
“I do.”
“That time seems so long ago, Clay. Sometimes it seems as if I was never really that young.”
“Well, I can attest to the fact that you were. You were not only that young, but you were a happy, carefree kid with a great imagination for making up games and a great sense of fun.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” she murmured. Sometimes it was so hard to remember that time. Tonight wasn’t one of them. Tonight she felt like that carefree happy girl again. She wondered how long the feeling would last.
He snapped his fingers. “Wait here.”
Clay went inside, then came back out with the CD player under his arm. He plugged it into an outlet on the porch. When the music began to play, he took her in his arms.
“You wanted music,” he reminded her. “I thought you might want to dance.…”